Defiant One
by DF-chan
Summary: His breath hitched as he looked into those vivid green eyes on the pale face. 'I want him'. AU/Human!Toothless/Bromance/Semi-slash?
1. The Defiant One

**.Defiant One.**

**SUMMARY:** His breath hitched as he looked into those vivid green eyes on the pale face. 'I want him'. AU/Human!Toothless/Semi-slash/Experimental Fic

**WARNINGS:** Bad English and no Beta. And I'm telling you honestly – probably a lot A LOT of mistakes and plot holes and confusions and etc. Human!Dragons AU and slightly darker than the canon. Slash will be hinted or it _**may**_ become M-rated. Depends on how I will go with it. But now a definite T-rate.

**A/N : **Okay, so this is like experimental fic (a whim of inspiration that hit me suddenly and unexpected). I have ideas for this fic, but before I'll even start to write it, I need your honest opinions about this idea. If the idea will be accepted positively I will start write as soon as possible (while I'm hooked into it), but if no, I'll probably leave it in a semi-one shot state. So yeah, review please. P.S. Name has nothing to do with Riders of Berk. (3/16/13)

**A/N 2: **Rechecked and corrected everything I deemed wrong. (3/23/13)

**DISCLAIMER:** I do not own anything related to How To Train Your Dragon.

* * *

_Prologue,_

_Introduction_

_or_

_Pilot Chapter_

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Hiccup looked forward, not really seeing the scene he knows too well, occurring in front of him, being too immersed in his own dwellings as an easy distraction from the unpleasant knot that settled heavy in the pit of his stomach. What he was doing here again? He never wanted to be here. To sit and nonchalantly look, feelings sick and disgusted and in the same time strangely excited with the whole ordeal. The feeling of the harsh cold wind brushing his face and a warm tingling from the rare rays of the sun that peeked from behind the heavy dark grey clouds, were his only anchors to not to jump on his feet and run as far away as possible from this place.

Where was this place, you will ask? Well, the island of Berk of course. The picturesque gathering of big steep rocks, inhabited by the equally big, brawly Vikings of the Hairy Hooligan Tribe, his tribe. The fearless Hooligan Vikings, the mightiest warriors and best sailors of all the other tribes. Stories about them traveled all around the Archipelago and there is no tribe that doesn't know the name of the Hairy Hooligan's Chef – Stoick the Vast – the Chef who leads his people to the glory and fame, to the eternal feast in the Valhalla as fighters and warriors.

As raiders and killers.

The surface of stone, Hiccup was sitting on, was cold and smooth underneath his clammy palms as he traced tiny cracks and lines under it, trying his hardest not to chew at his bottom lip, distracting himself with the puzzling picture his finger was following. His eyes didn't move from the crowd underneath him, staring intently and feeling more and more revolted with himself, from not being able to stop himself from greedily drinking at the sight of commotion.

He shouldn't have come. He should have stayed at home like he always did, hiding in his room in the comforting presence of parchments and ink, of frozen scenes and silent faces. Or travel through the frosted growths of the forest, loosing himself in the quietness of the nature that was much more closer to him than the noisiness of his fellow tribe mates. He could have considered staying in the smithy, in the soothing company of fire and his wooden and metal creations, but his mentor had closed it, to participate in the… _celebration_ too. But no, he had to come and now he was loathing himself for doing so.

His silent regrets were interrupted by a booming voice over his left shoulder and he unconsciously tensed his hands, digging his fingers into the unmerciful rock.

"Ah, it'll start soon!"

His forest green eyes moved to glance at his left, where on the throne craved from the big stone, was sitting a big man dressed in green and scales, with a fur draped over his wide shoulders leaving his bare hands exposed for the winter air, and a horned helmet sitting proudly on his brownish red hair, with an impressive beard that stood out in his appearance. Stoick the Vast was, for the lack of any other proper adjective, positively _glowing_ with the pride, sitting on his throne and looking at the arena beneath them with a large smile on his bearded face.

"Aren't you excited Hiccup? This raid's catch is quite big! Huh?" the man laughed, gesturing with his beefy hand at the crowd that started to part in a semi-circle in the arena.

Hiccup turned his head away from the man and looked down at the rows and rows of kneeling people in the middle of the arena, surrounded by the excited Vikings.

"Yes father."

Oh, was this detail forgotten to be mentioned? Stoick the Vast wasn't only the Chef for the tribe, but he was a father as well. The father of a resident talking fishbone, Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the III. But probably it was no wonder that anybody can forget to relate them two, Hiccup mused, glancing at his father who turned to say something to the nearest Viking. The only thing that was similar about them two, was the rarest shade of reddish brown hair they possessed, while everything else just confirmed that Hiccup didn't inherit his father's genes at all. No beefy arms, no sturdy stature, no backbone and more important – not even a speck of Vikingness.

Because, while other little Vikings fought in dirt and bashed each other with blunt objects, Hiccup was reading about magic and exploring forests for trolls. When all kids' dream was to finally join their parents in raids and travels, Hiccup dreamt about creating something more advanced then peg legs and hooks for amputees. When every teen slept and saw their first kill and excitement of the war, Hiccup searched through books for rare herbs and plants to help extend his people's too short lives.

All the other kids were real Vikings from head to toes: reckless and full of thirst for fight and glory, without a trace of fear and caution. Hiccup on the opposite was the pacifist. The explorer. The thinker. The one who prefer to talk things out, then crash those who oppose him with a brute force.

So you probably can get the picture: scrawny fishbone without even a trace of Vikingness as son of the Chef – you can guess he is not very loved in his Tribe.

Hiccup knew all his faults the nature gifted him with. He knew he was different and that all villagers despised him for that. Somewhat he accepted that fact with the years that passed, but it never meant he stopped trying to prove himself. He craved for their acceptance, for their acknowledgement, especially for his father's. So he abounded that common sense that differed him from others and dived into the life his father wanted him to live. And he paid his price for that.

One of his hands unconsciously moved to his left leg and a distant sound of metal scrapping stone reached his ears even through the noise of the crowd.

His reckless actions cost him a part of himself and it didn't even earn him a little bit of respect from his tribe mates. Now they not only called him different, but a fool and nuisance for the troubles he seemed to call upon his father's head by his actions.

He snapped out from his memories as somebody below spoke up loudly and he cringed at the loudness of his mentor's voice. Gobber the Belch turned towards the crowd with raised hand and a grin stretched on his lips. "Are you ready?"

The crowd roared in answer, excited voice drifted over the still figures kneeling on the earth. Gobber glanced up at them and seeing Stoick nod, he gestured for two men behind him to bring forward the first person.

"We are starting!"

Hiccup's stomach lurched and his eyes locked on the filthy thin person who was shoved on his knees in front of the crowd.

"Who will offer the biggest bid on this one?-"

The brunet felt something rose into his throat, but he forcefully swallowed it back.

Slavery.

What differ Hiccup from the other Vikings weren't only his scrawny built and inclination to think more, but also his disagreement concerning raiding and enslaving the conquered tribes. He hated seeing those empty eyes and emotionless faces of the defeated people. His tribe used slaves to work in the caves and mines on the nearby islands, where they extract the little iron they use to make weapons and other things. But before they send them into the mines, they displayed the new acquired slaves to the villagers-

"Three golden coins!"

-who may want to acquire their _**own**_ slave.

The first slave was hauled on his feet and lead into the pens somewhere in the depths behind the arena, from where his new owner will take him and another one was placed on his place in front. Same empty eyes and emotionless face, and Hiccup wished he could turn away, but he couldn't. He didn't need to shame his father even more, by showing that his son feels pity and sympathy for the slaves.

He was a disappointment enough, even without that.

So he continued to look, sitting next to his father on his own rock craved chair, partly listening to Stoick, who was talking with his brother, and the boy's uncle, Spitelout.

"-we lost three ships, but look at this! These filthy Drakes lost more than half of their force, but that coward, Leader of theirs, managed to flee." Stoick audibly growled cracking his knuckles in irritation.

"Next time we will meet I will be sure he won't be able to move with any of his limbs." Spitelout promised to his Chef while the bigger male focused his steely grey eyes on the arena, where next three slaves were bought.

"We need to be ready for next raid. I don't know how many people he has on his disposal, but it seems that with each of our new meeting their numbers grow. It is the first time we managed to capture so many of them in one raid." The thoughtful expression on his father's face brought a shiver to Hiccup's little frame. It was one of expressions he tended to associate with another- "Spitelout, spread the news later about the preparation to another expedition in a three days. We need to find their hideout sooner, or we will continue to be in disadvantage with their surprise attacks." –raid.

Spitelout nodded and vanished somewhere behind them and Stoick glanced at Hiccup, who didn't move or indicated with anything that he was listening. The Hooligan Chef sighed heavily before settling his gaze once more at the people below them. "Hiccup. While we will be gone I want you to attend classes with other teens."

"Dad." Hiccup paused, before looking at his father. "I don't think I want to attend them."

Stoick was silent as he continued to look as slave after slave was placed before Vikings, some bought some undesired. Hiccup sighed, used to this kind of treatment, knowing that it was futile to argue with his father when he decided something. Must be a Chef streak.

Hiccup turned away from the man and stared unseeingly at the arena, his mind reeling with this whole situation.

Why was he born in the Viking Tribe when he was clearly not a Viking material? Weak, fragile, not violent and not aggressive – a weakling, a runt, a _hiccup_ that happened to be born in the wrong tribe. He felt so trapped in this village where nobody understood him. So scared in the midst of those who won't think twice if he will suddenly decide to collapse and die where he stood. So helpless where he couldn't do anything to protect himself or even speak up for himself.

Not talking about voicing his disagreement about the whole slavery-thing. He felt so dirty, as he sat and looked how his people just bought and disposed other _people,_ like if they were cattle of mindless animals or possessions. He couldn't look how slowly slavery broke those who once were free and lived, not bound by chains, ropes and fears. Not once did he planned (dreamed) that once he will be able to help those who were captured, but his plans never went past planning state. Too great was his fear of… of what? He wasn't sure himself. Maybe fear of his father, or of the death that will await him for treachery? Or the fear of failing and endangering not only his life, but the lives of those people?

He never knew exactly why, but it never stopped him from thinking that he should – had to – help. Somehow. Anyhow. Save those people from breaking. But as he swept his eyes over those hollow faces and looked into those empty eyes, he wondered… Was it already too late to try and safe them? They seemed to already accept their fate, willingly bowing their heads for those who enslaved them, shedding themselves of their pride and honor, and-

For a split of second, green met green.

"Here is a great example of a strong young slave you see here!"

The slave landed on the stone without a sound, looking at the crowd with burning green eyes and Hiccup's breath hitched at the emotions that flashed in them.

Hate. Defiance. Pride. Stubbornness. Desire to live. To be free.

Pale features and jet-black hair that reached shoulders, the young male looked striking even in his bloodied and dirty, torn grey clothes. Hiccup knows for sure that for this one will be given a lot of money, but he couldn't imagine the slave with such gaze bowing his head to anyone. Even now on his knees and with lowered (not _bowed_) head in front of the screaming crowd, he sat straight with eyes directed not on the floor like other slaves, but staring with fire in his gaze at his capturers.

Hiccup couldn't stop the words that tumbled past his limps, leaving his father speechless.

"I want him."


	2. The Stubborn One

**.Defiant One.**

**WARNINGS:** As always bad English, and it's no wonder after all my first language is Russian! ;D

**A/N: **Rechecked 3/20/13 update and corrected everything I saw as wrong. (3/23/13)

**DISCLAIMER:** I do not own anything related to How To Train Your Dragon.

* * *

_The Stubborn One_

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With a relieved grunt Hiccup disposed a finished piece of metal on the table, before easing himself on a stool in the less heated corner of the forge. His tired and aching muscles screamed in relief and his face, heated from the flames of the fireplace, gratefully exposed itself to a cold breeze that rushed into the room through the cracks in the front door. The silence of the forge after the constant rhythmic pounding of the hammer against molted metal was soothing and Hiccup relished in it. Outside the forge there was a little noise too, for it probably was time for an evening meal and everybody headed to the Great Hall, leaving the usually crowded area around the smithy deserted.

Since the early morning he was working in the forge and managed to do quite a work, without his mentor. He worked hard, allowing his body take the lead and forget about the thoughts that plagued his mind. But now in the silence and without the distraction in a form of work, Hiccup's troubled mind wandered and he found himself drawing comforting circles below his aching left knee. He did it again. He did something reckless _again_. And when the last time he knew it could cost him his life (but he managed to get away with only one limb lost), this time he headed into something he didn't know how to deal with.

Strangely enough his father didn't react like he thought he would. Sure, it took a couple of minutes for him to process what Hiccup was talking about, while gaping in a manner that wasn't very befitting for the Chef. But instead of screaming and ranting and generally denying Hiccup's request (that Hiccup was sure _should_ have followed), the Chef just stared at him for a little more and then proceeded to note Gobber that the dark-haired slave was to become his son's. The scrawny teen winced, remembering the look on Gobber's face, when one of the Vikings run up to him and urgently whispered into his ear. The man with even less limbs then Hiccup, shoot a long look at both son and father, before hurriedly dragging the startled slave back into the pens, ignoring the calls of the bidding Vikings.

Before the slave was hidden in the darkness of the tunnel, the green eyes darted around in a brief panic, before settling up at them. Hiccup caught a wide and confused gaze of the pale-faced male, who seemed to become even paler. Their gazes held for a split of second, and the teen noticed something flickered in those green eyes, but Hiccup didn't have time to distinguish the fleeting emotion as the thick shadow hid the slave. After that, his father proceed to stand up and walk away, dismissing Hiccup too. The boy left without a word, not looking back at the arena where Spitelout took over Gobber. He hadn't seen his father not Gobber since then and frankly that was what worried him, besides the obvious thing.

What he was thinking, really? Taking – _shudder_ – a **slave**. The slave from the Drake tribe nevertheless!

The Drake Tribe was as well-known as the Hairy Hooligan Tribe, famous for their mercilessness and blood thirst that could rival the tribe of Berserks. Their ferocity and nearly animalistic behavior matched the name of their tribe, for they were called 'Drake' for the most mythical and mysterious creatures of the Old Times – the Dragons. Nearly every Vikings rose on the stories about how their grand-grand-ancestors lead and won a war with those beasts for the lands they lived now on. The stories were always full of blood and gore, but Hiccup loved to hear them anyway. He was especially fascinated by those mystical beings and often found himself drawing the described in the legends forms. The Dragons were graceful creatures of skies and were as deadly as they were beautiful. Hiccup could draw a parallel between the Dragons and the tribe named after them, for their warriors painted a blood-freezing picture of war in all the gracefulness they seemed to share with their mystical counterparts.

He saw them in action not once. Sometimes, the Drake raided them, sometimes they met in the sea, but the result was always the same. Their tribes had a history with each other, both their hands painted in each other's blood and vows of revenges are exchanged in every their encounter. Their Chef – the Red Death, he called himself, for it was rumored he killed his opponents in the most bloody way possible, painting his hands and ground with their life force – was his father's so-called arch-enemy, as there was no time when the two Chiefs hadn't clashed their weapons on the battle field. Hiccup shuddered as he recalled the image of the Drake's Chief. Tall and wide as his father, with battle scars running all around his thick arms, he evoked a primal fear in those who oppose him. His long dark hair embroiled with bones and feathers and head adorned with a helmet possessing three set of different sized and shaped horns. A terrifying battle mask that was merged with the metal of helmet, hid his face, leaving only cold grayish-blue eyes boring into you and –

With a start, Hiccup released he was shaking. With trembling hands Hiccup clutched his pant leg, taking big calming breaths trying to calm his suddenly erratically beating heart. He didn't need to go there. His terror was still _**too**_ fresh in his mind.

Instead, Hiccup's thoughts focused on the sla- male. On that male.

With fair skin, that jet-black hair and body built for warriors, he ought to be one, yet Hiccup never saw him on the battle field or never heard of him from his tribe mates. How did he got caught and enslaved with those eyes of his, full of will to fight and dreams of freedom? And what Hiccup could do for him to help him?

After all that's why he decided to buy him.

Hiccup wasn't sure how to approach this situation. He dived in head first, without any plan or directions. He just followed his heart that screamed at him to help-_help_-_**help**_ the owners of those eyes, that eerily reminded him of his own, with those undying will and stubbornness that burned through his gaze and longing for freedom and… something else, etched in every line of his face. Face of another, yet a mirror reflection of his own.

Bitter laugh babbled in his throat at this thought. The slave and the heir of the tribe, how those two can be so different and alike at the same time?

One – chained and bond against his will and forced to bow to others.

Another…

…not chained… yet as imprisoned as the first.

Sound of wood clacking startled Hiccup out of his thoughts so badly that he fell from the stool with a spectacular -smack-. The teen groaned out and glared over his fallen position at anybody who was responsible for his pain. But instead of biting a bitter remark, he froze upon seeing his mentor –looking tired and a little wary- gazing at him from the other part of the forge.

Gobber the Belch was his mentor, for many things except the blacksmith's work too. He remembered and cherished all the times when the man found time for him, while his own father was too busy or didn't seem to care. Being his father's best friend may automatically make Gobber an essential part of his life, but the man took a much bigger part in his life. So big, that Hiccup sometimes can call him the closest thing akin to having a… family. The man knew Hiccup better, than anyone in the Village, but not good enough… to understand his actions completely.

And that's why probably he was looking so frustrated, staring at Hiccup, as if at a very twisted and deformed piece of metal he needed to distinguish and straighten out.

Feeling suddenly very uncomfortable in the silence, Hiccup gulped, "Uh-hey, hey Gobber, Hey-yeah-hey." He awkwardly stood up on his mismatched feet, griping the stool for support. "So, uh- How are t-things? B-because you know!... Uh , m-mine are fantastically wonderful! Yeah, working all morning, all alone in the f-forge, uh-so-"

"Listen lad." Gobber said calmly, but Hiccup recoiled anyway. "I don't know what were you thinking 'bout with those whole-" the man gestured with his hook, "-_**thing**_, and frankly I don't think you were in a bright mind when you said your father _**you**_ wanted a slave, but-" The mustached Viking then paused and gazed at the teen almost sadly, "It's not like you lad. I know it. And _**you**_ know it. But, now it's your business. That slave is your responsibility."

Hiccup just stared. Somehow in those words he could hear clear and loud –_I don't know what are you doing Hiccup, but I __**trust**__ you_ – and it almost brought tears into his eyes -from the relief of knowing that he held at least someone's support in this whole thing, he didn't understand so well himself- if not for the next words that left his mentor's lips.

"But I don't think your father shares my sentiments." The man sighed warily, "He…he thinks that even if he agreed- He should be sure that you'll be okay. He _**loves**_ you Hiccup, you know-"

"Gobber." Hiccup whispered, eyes widening at a little desperate and not a little disappointed tone of the man's voice. "What my father _**did**_?"

Gobber barely noticeably winced, "Hiccup, you know how your father is- Stoick- he is… he just wants to be sure you will be okay, you are after all his son, lad- _**Hiccup**_!"

But Hiccup wasn't listening, he was already running out into the cold air, slipping and stumbling through the empty streets of village, heading to the arena that situated not a far way from the village.

Of course he knew how his father could be. While Stoick the Vast was the great leader – reliable and fair, loved and respected – he, like any other human had his own faults. The man tended to solve most of the things he didn't understand or considered highly threatening, in a very typical Viking's way. With violence.

He should have known, his father won't let go of his request so easily. He should have known! Hiccup cursed himself for his naivety as he dangerously swayed on the bridge, noticing the arena in his field of vision. He should have predicted that something like that could have happened. After all a new slave for his –even if useless- son, the heir –even if unwanted- of the tribe - is a high threat. The teen slinked through the shadows into the arena and through the tunnels, knowing the way from the times they hid cattle in there from the blizzard. His trembling hands somehow managed to find a torch, as he hurried through the darkness, nearly falling in his haste. As Gobber said his father still loved him, and he could have done what he thought he did-

Hiccup halted in front of one of the pens, lifting the torch higher to see in the shadows. His mouth went dry as he noticed uneven patches of something dark on the earth and a limp figure lying in a heap in the farthest corner.

Dark hair glistening in the flickering flames of the torch, grey clothes torn and dripping with blood, Hiccup could only see the male's back, but even without seeing the rest he knows how bad it is. Heart pounding and arms trembling, Hiccup backed away from the pen and into the wall, sliding down the smooth rock. His breath coming out in a short gasps as he looked with the wide eyes at the marred, disfigured flesh of the other male's back.

"…I did this…"

He did this, didn't he? He was the cause of this slave's pain. He wanted to save him and yet he sentenced him for torture from his own father. Guilt gripping tight his heart, he felt hate and disgust burning even stronger than ever for himself. What have he done? Like those times with his attempts to help his tribe mates, everything backfired, hurting the ones he intended to help. Was it all his doings? Was he _**that**_ useless as his tribe called him? He couldn't help anyone, hell, he couldn't help himself! And he wanted to save this slave? He could as well leave this slave for hungry mountain lions to feast on, with this kind of help!

"I-I… d-did this… I!-" He whispered over and over again, feeling guilt dragging him deep into misery. Sudden wet coughing startled him and he lifted his gaze to look at the shaking back of the slave, wincing at the pained grunt that escaped the other male.

He paused, before shifting to stand back on his legs to kneel closer to the bars of the pen.

"Hey." He called out gently, not sure why he was doing this, but he needed to know if the male was awake. "Hey."

No response. Hiccup shifted to sit with crossed legs in front of the bars, already calmer from his previous state. He placed the torch near himself in a little hole in the rocks and rubbed his hands over his face. He should concentrate. Despite what his father had done, he still could help this male. He only hoped his father's deed didn't…break him.

Hiccup didn't know how long he sat in front of the pen, staring at the still back of the other, while flames slowly ate at the wood of the torch. Probably long enough for the sun to sit down and the moon to rise high in the night sky. Maybe even long enough for his father to notice his absence. But it was enough for the other male to slowly return into the awake world and to start moving.

Frozen in a strange sense of fear and excitement, Hiccup looked as other sat up with difficulty, seemed disoriented, before stiffening, noticing the light of the torch. Slowly, the other male moved, turning his beaten body around and two pair of green eyes met for the third time.

The slave's face was worn out and pale, probably because of the blood loss and Hiccup nearly lost all his hopes when he saw fear in those dull with pain green irises. But for another moment, there was recognition in those gaze and the slave's eyes changed, gazing hard into his own green ones.

Nearly laughing out in his relief, Hiccup stared back.

This slave was a stubborn one, if the strength and defiance that burned twice brighter than before were any evidence of that.

If so, Hiccup won't give up too. After all he just _ought_ to save the one with the eyes so similar to his.

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**A/N: Reviews are the greatest motivator after all.**

**Thank you I.F.T.S , Thesmartone1997 , LouiLuvr and also all the guests that bothered to write! And of course thank you everybody who followed and faved!**


	3. The Hungry One

**.Defiant One.**

**WARNINGS: **I probably should have warned earlier - I don't write accents. Let's just assume that Gobber, Stoick and others who have accents speak with them, ok? Oh, and probably should have rated previous chapter as light M for blood. Oh well. Nevermind. And as always Bad English (Note: I always will write that, because I'm a foreigner - it's only natural for me to warn people that it's far from normal _-right-_ english you are used to),

**A/N : **Okay, so it was like 5 days holiday in my country (Nauriz, baby!) and that's why I was updating so quick, when usually I update once in a week. Already 3 days passed, so there is only 2 days left. I'm planning to post next chapter in those two days. So, yeah, what I was talking about -oh, right- More reviews people~ Mooooreeeee-

**DISCLAIMER:** I do not own anything related to How To Train Your Dragon.

* * *

_The Hungry One_

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A sound of wood clanking was followed by a colorful stream of curses directed at the spilled food now adorning the wooden floorboard. Hiccup kneeled on the floor clumsily gathering the plate and what little food that didn't fell out of it. Setting the plate back on the table near the fireplace with the boiling pot, he stood up and limped to the cupboard where they kept rugs, to clean up the mess on the floor.

He hummed some kind of tuneless song as he wrenched out the dirty rug and then turned back to the pot to try out the soup while not spilling the hot liquid. The teen usually didn't cook, preferring to eat in the Great Hall, even if alone, but in some kind of illusion that he is a part of his tribe. The cooking was another oddity his father kept reminding him about, for he was a good cook for a boy. At least his food was fairly edible and not churned or burned like most of his father's attempts. Most of the time he cooked, it was out of incredible gnawing hunger that tortured him, or when he needed a distraction.

Now the distraction was very needed, for he was sure he would damage his brain someday with all his thinking.

After his more or less successful first confrontation with the young male (which involved him not attacking or backing away from Hiccup), the auburn-haired teen had some kind of a panic fit. Hiccup remembered with huge embarrassment, how he flailed mutely around, so not to scare the other male, in search of bucket to fill it with water and rug to clean the slave's injuries with. Successfully finding an old bucket and not-so-clean rug in the entrance of tunnels and filling the bucket with water in the nearest barrel, he hurried back into pens, glad that there were no one except the other male in there. Returning to the highly confused and defensive slave, he tried to fit the bucket through the bars of the pen, but with little success. Unwillingly he left the bucket and rug close to the bars. He backed away and stared at the slave expectantly, but the other just continued to stare at him with those bright toxic green eyes, as if not comprehending what he should do.

Hiccup couldn't move his gaze from the other. In the flickering flames of the torch, the male's pale face looked even more hollowed and sick, and eyes seemed to glow in the semi-darkness, while hair cast eerie shadows under them. His face reminded Hiccup of the masks he saw in the one of the eastern tribes. They used it to intimidate their opponents or in some kind of weird rituals they do to praise the gods. But unlike those masks, the slave's face looked much scarier in this light, yet Hiccup wasn't scared.

They stared at each other for some more: one hesitatively curious, other guarded and tense. Hiccup understood that the slave won't move with him here, but he didn't want to leave the slave alone. Very reluctantly, Hiccup backed away from the pen, rubbing his hands together nervously and with the last look at other male, turned to leave the tunnels. He felt the other's gaze boring into his skull, until he turned and was plunged into the darkness, for he left the torch for the slave to see.

Hiccup returned home a few hours before sunrise, undetected by his snoring and alcohol-smelling father and spent the rest of the night staring into the ceiling of his room.

Next day, Hiccup tried to avoid his father and Gobber as much as possible, and it wasn't so hard. His father was too busy informing others that they are to travel into the next expedition to search for the Drake's island and Gobber was making new weapons and fixing the broken ones in the forge. Hiccup spent all his day in the room, drawing or staring into the air in his dreamlike state. His sketchbook was quickly filled with pictures of the dark-haired male and those emotional green eyes. Hiccup feared that even his father may notice the amount of drawings, even if he never looked into his sketchbook or even into his room.

That evening he grabbed a piece of bread, a couple of chicken legs, a water skin and a roll of bandages, and whilst the other Vikings were enjoying themselves in the Great Hall – sneaked into the arena once more.

When he arrived to the pen, he instantly noticed the bucket with a blood-soaked rug. He carefully limped towards the pen and putting the bucket away (to take it later with him) stopped in front of the bars, carefully peering inside. The slave used his dirty, torn shirt to bandage his injured back and was sitting in a shadowy corner with his back pressed to the rocky wall. Upon hearing him, the male opened his eyes and they stared at each other, before Hiccup slowly kneeled, placing the torch in the hole the burnt one occupied before, and disposed the items he brought with him in front of the bars. The other's eyes watched him intently and even slightly curious, and when he noticed that Hiccup brought food, his eyes widened, before narrowing into angry slits.

Not knowing what caused the sudden anger, Hiccup faltered at that a little. But taking a hold of himself, he picked up the bandages and stretched his hand into the pen, not moving his gaze from the angered gaze of the other.

"Here I brought bandages. Uh- it's kind of better than the shirt you used, b-but if you want to leave it- it's cool, yeah. Though you might catch an infection and then it won't be very cool."

Even now Hiccup's face flooded color at the memory of his pathetic attempts to talk with the person he put into such misery. Probably the slave wasn't very amused either, for he didn't answer or even twitched, just his eyes narrowed even further. Hiccup then had put the bandages on the floor of the pen and clumsily stood up, dusting off his knees. With a quick 'Take care' he gathered the old burned torch and the bucket with rug, and stomped through the darkness of the tunnels out into the air, exactly an hour before a patrol passed this part of the island.

He returned next morning, hoping that the slave had eaten, but he was met with a disappointment. The food was untouched, but at least the water skin was empty and the fresh bandages were wrapped around the slave's torso, preventing him from getting an infection. The slave was lying with his back to the entrance and Hiccup took notice of his even deep breathings. He left a bowl of stew (he managed to take it undetected from the Great Hall in the morning) and fresh water, and took the dry chicken legs and bread away with him, wondering if the slave felt too weak to eat the solid food?

But his theory was proved wrong, when in the same evening he returned and found that the slave didn't touch anything, not even the water, and was still facing the wall. Hiccup then set a bowl of soup he left from his launch in front of the bars and plopped himself down in front of the pen. He sat there for hours, the torch reducing in half and he knew that the slave wasn't asleep, yet he didn't turn to face him nor he tried to talk. Somehow Hiccup found himself filling in the empty air, muttering something about how the weather on Berk was a pain and theorizing why the apples were called apples and not grape. Hiccup left in the midst of night, dejected and upset that he couldn't make the slave eat or at least react at his presence. The same happened in the next morning, though at least the slave wasn't facing away from him , but sitting with his back to the wall and head lowered, staring from under his dark hair at the ranting away Hiccup. When he stood up with a promise to return later and a special soup, the young male's lips twitched as if he wanted to say something, but he abruptly turned and lied down on his side hiding in the shadows, facing the wall. With a last long gaze, Hiccup left, hoping that he finally made some progress.

And now, here he was, making that special cod soup, the action not nearly as distracting as he hoped, but he was busy at least. The receipt was one of the few things one of the villager's woman wasn't afraid to share with him. He remembered she told him she often used it to feed her children when they had trouble with stomach. He hoped it will work for a probably weak stomach of the young male, but he highly doubted it looked appetizing enough. He shuddered when a chunk of fish swam to the surface and he hurriedly stirred the soup to hide it in the chopped vegetables.

The evening was approaching and Hiccup hoped to get to the arena a little earlier, because he planned to spend a bit more time with the other male in the pen. A sudden creak of the front door and all too-familiar grunting of his father, caused his heart to plummet down to his feet. It looked like his luck exhausted itself. Three days without confronting his father and now in the most inconvenient moment he just had to face him. Hiccup wasn't sure how he should act right now. Even before the whole slave-torture thing any of their conversation were… awkward.

Stoick grunted a little as he stomped down the snow from his boots and took off his snow covered helmet, putting it on the nearest shelf. The man, still not saying a word, wandered through the room picking up his duffel bag, pointedly not looking at Hiccup, who continued to stir the soup.

"Son."

Here we go, Hiccup sighed.

"We are leaving." Stoick put one of his spare tunics in the bag and swung one of his many axes on his broad shoulder. "We will be away for awhile. Hopefully we will return before the first ice."

"…Okay." Hiccup nodded, still staring into the soup, so he didn't notice a quick look his father shot him.

"I…" the man paused, before sighing inaudibly. "I already noted Gobber that you are to attend the classes with others."

The man closed the bag, picked his helmet and stepped towards the door.

"I will be back." His hand paused on the door and he shot one last look at his son, who still didn't turn to look at him. "Probably."

"And… Hiccup."

Hiccup straightened a little, blinking very fast.

"…Don't cause any problems."

The door closed with a bang.

"…Be safe Dad…"

* * *

The pens were dark as always, but Hiccup already knew the way by the heart and not too long after he was standing in front of the all-too familiar pen. The pen's occupant was already sitting with his back on the wall and his legs crossed, green eyes instantly catching the gaze of the teen.

"Hey, I brought you the soup." Hiccup grunted as he took off the bag from his shoulder and sat with it in front of the bars. "I hope you don't mind a homemade cooking." The teen shuffled through the bag, disposing a little portable pot with soup and two bowls. "And I hope you don't mind me eating with you?"

Not really waiting an answer, Hiccup opened the still warm pot, allowing the smell to fill in the space of the tunnel. He slowly and carefully filled both bowls to the brim and set one inside of the pen and leaving the pot on its place near the bars, he crawled backwards to sit with his back to the wall on the other side of the tunnel.

Aware of the eyes following his every move, Hiccup lifted the bowl to his lips and took a good gulp of the warm liquid, filling his stomach with a pleasant heat. He let out a sigh and fished out a pieces of fish in his bowl to chew at them, happy that his cooking was successful. The teen tried to appear as relaxing and uninterested as possible, when he heard the slave's stomach let out a sound that reminded him of a boar's roar.

With slightly defeated and embarrassed twitch of his face, the young male stood up into a crouch and slowly and stealthy moved from the shadows towards the light of the torch. Shifting his gaze from the bowl to Hiccup and then back to the bowl, the slave cautiously moved to the bars, until he was just inches from the bowl. Hiccup continued to slurp his soup, steadily looking down into his bowl, but inside squirming from the tension. When he heard the slave heaving himself down in front of the food and taking the bowl, he allowed a small grin stretch over his lips, but he quickly hid it in the bowl. Glancing up, Hiccup noticed that the slave took a cautious sniff, before tasting the liquid with his tongue.

Did he think Hiccup was trying to poison him? That's why he didn't eat before and only risked now, when he saw that Hiccup was eating from the same pot? Or was he just too proud to eat from the hands of his enslavers and only now did he succumb to his hunger? Whatever it was, at least now he was eating.

The hurried slurping and a content sigh snapped Hiccup out from his distracting moment and he watched in fascination how the slave dealt with his first bowl, and then tugging the pot into the pen, with his second and third. Any pieces of fish were plucked out and wolfed down as the pot was cleaned off. Inconspicuously, Hiccup took out from the bag a water skin and loudly opened it and made a big gulp of the water. The slave's eyes zoomed on him, when he wiped some water from his lips and shuffled a little closer to the pen, offering the water skin to the other male.

For couple of moments they just stared at each other, before the slave glanced down at the offering. Setting down the pot, the male shifted his body closer to the bars and stretched out his hand to reach the water skin. Hiccup held his breath when bony fingers touched it and carefully, so not to startle the other, Hiccup retracted his hand and returned back into his position against the wall, watching as other took a sip of the fresh water.

He didn't hide his smile this time.

* * *

**A/N: I hope you people can draw parallels between canon and this AU? ;D**

**Thank you** Thesmartone1997, Spottedmask12, I.F.T.S, PrincessOfDarnkess3, Bynrydnff47yrs** and** Simply Cool** for reviewing the previous chapter (I'm all energized from your reviews! *caching!*), and thank you everybody who added fic to their favs and followed after it!**


	4. The Confused One

**.Defiant One.**

**WARNINGS:** Fair amount of mistakes and in spelling, Bad English in general. Also quite...confusing chapter. ;D Well the name answers for itself.

**A/N :** I know I promised chapter in previous two days... Sorry.) And I'm not quite satisfied with it, not really my best try. (But you got another POV! ;D)

Someone reviewed on one of my fics that I need to watch my spelling and grammar. Well, it** is truth**. But when this write you a person who writes without capital letters and has a horrible amount of mistakes for the native speaker... Just, _**whaaaaaaaaat?!**_

_**Thank you everyone who reviewed **_(especailly you, my darlings! You know who you are xD)_**, followed and faved!**_

_**p.s. to xXloveless19Xx: Bromance all the way dear! (maybe with the hint of slash. Maybe.)**_

**DISCLAIMER:** I do not own anything related to How To Train Your Dragon.

* * *

_The Confused One_

* * *

Why somebody can be so afraid of dark? Darkness is comforting and soothing, hiding you from the harshness of the light and cruelty of the reality. Darkness grants you haven and sanctuary in its folds, allowing you to hide away from those who can hurt you. Darkness allows you to be yourself in its hands, because no one can see or judge you.

So why was he shying away from it now? Why he couldn't find the comfort of the darkness welcoming like before, and instead longing for that flickering speck of light that seemed to be a source of his comfort now?

Before, the darkness was his friend, his partner. He blended in its shadows, and even with his almost white skin he was easily hidden by the blanket of the night. Even the name he was called by sipped the darkness through every word. The name, his _Father_ called him, was an epitome of darkness itself and he had liked it, feeling himself special in the eyes of his _Father_ and _**hating**_ every minute of it.

But where was _Father_ now? Why he was alone in no-longer comforting eternal night? Why his name was forgotten like him in this dark place?

Drained and cold he lied there on the hard floor, where he was thrown by the Big Fiery One, after the hours and hours of beating. But it was nothing new for him, because _Father_ did this too, assuring him that it will only make him stronger, because the pain wasn't an enemy – the pain was a friend. A friend that allows you to fall into oblivion. But this time the pain was as unwelcoming as the darkness that seemed to try to suffocate him, but he falls into oblivion nevertheless.

His mind is a swirling mess when he returns, but he instantly notices that darkness is no longer there. Instead a light dances over the shadows, painting everything in colors and for a second he fears that someone – _Father? The Big Fiery One?_ – is back and it means more pain. But when he finally makes his sluggish body move, he is looking into his own eyes.

Wait, not his eyes. But eyes of another, the one who saw him through the crowd, the one whose eyes are the same shade of vivid green he only had seen in the forest. He was sitting there, behind the thick metal and looking back, and the light dancing through his almost red hair and pail face dotted with spots. He is thin and fragile, but he still tense when the little one starts to flail.

The Little One is weak and small, yet he couldn't help but flinch inwardly at his every move. The Little One gave him water and food and helped with his wounds, yet he is an enemy. So confusing. What was the reason for the little one to help the enemy? Weren't they in a war?

But… here in the dark of his new prison there is no war. There is no enemy or friend. There are just two beings. Two very weird beings.

When he finally accepted the help the Little One so insistently offering him, he wasn't sure why had he done it. _Father_ taught him many times that if he was to be captured you should never accept the food or water given by those who caught you. They will try to confuse you, to drag you, to mess with you. To make you forget who you are and turn you against yourself and your _family_, his _Father_. But the water he used to clean his wounds with was okay and the bandages clean and smelling with herbs and ointments. And the food, he finally tasted after so-so many days of starvation, tingled with warmth in his mouth and in his stomach, leaving him confused of kindness the Little One, his supposed-to-be-enemy, had shown him.

Was his _Father_ wrong? Was he wrong about the ones they were fighting against? Was he wrong about the whole point of the war?

_("Destroy them, before they destroy us.")_

But… The Big Fiery One had had hurt him. His whip came for him again and again, as the Big Fiery One threatened him… for what? For hurting? But who had he hurt, or will hurt, since he was hidden in here, in the dark?

Could it be, that The Little One… was the one _The Big Fiery One_ was worried about? Did _The Big Fiery One_ know that The Little One will come?... it was their plan all along! To let The Little One come and sooth him, luring him into the false sense of security and comfort, to mess with his mind! Everything was like his _Father_ said; they were enemies, enemies who wanted to confuse him with their games. But… The Little One was so-so _kind_. So patient. He came when it was obvious that he didn't want his help. He came and tried, and tried, and tried. So stubborn and so stupid to do so. It didn't benefit him anyhow to show such kindness towards him. So, did he really do this to gain his trust and stab him in the back as soon as he will open up to him? But such earnest and honest expression and tilt of his brows… Those big and innocent eyes… How could such eyes belong to the face of liar and traitor? To an enemy? Why his enemy was helping him? Why his Father had to be right? Why he doubted his _Father_? Why he was earning for the presence of his enemy? Why this Little One was so confusing? Why he defied everything he was told? Why? _**Why**_?

A distant sound reached his ears; an echoing wailing of an animal that bounced through the empty tunnels. Vaguely he could feel his throat burning and with a startled realization, he understood that it was **he** who was emitting such sound. The scream of raw confusion and uncovered frustration unleashed through his vocal cords and the rock walls around him echoed his feelings. His frame shook with its force, the quaking of his body was hurting the tender injuries on his back, spilling the blood on the dirty rock floor.

His confusion, hurt, fear and pain reached its peak and soon he was trashing on the ground, screaming and clawing at the rock. The blood under his palms was warm in contrast with the cold floor, and the bandages that somehow unraveled from his body tangled into his legs. He heard a pounding resonated through the dark and his head, and for a second he feared it was his heart threatening to burst through his chest. But, no, his heart was still in his chest, beating in a frantic rhythm, pumping the blood that run through his veins and onto the floor underneath him.

Suddenly there was the light, and voice, and clanking of the metal. In his eyes appeared a blur, spots and fire and his mind froze.

The boy.

With a yell, he lunged toward the one who was responsible. The one who was at fault for his state. The one who was the reason why he doubted his Father. _The Little One_.

His fingers curled around the delicate throat and he squeezed, fueled by the anger and confusion. He could hear himself screaming at the pale face under him. His voice raw and scratchy as he yells curses and blames the weakling for his pain, for his confusion. He feels the other's pulse thrumming against his skin and it sends the shiver down his spine. He almost forgot this intoxicating feeling of holding someone's life in his hands, to be the one who can decide the other's fate, and only by one simple movement…

"I-It's okay…"

The whisper is soft, like touch of the fingertips that trace the damp paths on his cheeks, left by the tears he didn't know he could shed.

The forest depths are opened before him and he could see the lights of the fireflies and the shine of the moon reflecting in the lush green. He could feel a light breeze that gently rust the leaves on the crones of trees, caressing his face in a light puffs.

His own breath hitches, as those fingers touch his brow and a smile, he had saw only yesterday, lit those two windows to forest in the gentle light of sunrise he once saw.

"I… I understand…"

The voice is raspy and rough as its owner smiles up at him, knowingly and sincere.

"W-when you'll get out… head along the s-southern cliff… it will l-lead t-to the isolated s-shore… T-there are o-old boats… B-but wait f-for the dark."

A gasp escaped those pale-rosy lips and those green eyes hid behind the eyelids, the lashes casting a long shadow over those spotted cheeks that were drained from the all color.

"I h-hope… at least… _**you**_… will get out…"

His fingers curled tight and the body under him shuddered, but his mind was frozen with those words. Those eyes. That… _**honesty**_.

But… he was _**enemy**_. He was… _**He was**_…

He screamed and tore himself away from those eyes, from those words, from that _**smile**_. He screamed, flinging himself on the wall and pounding his fists against the rock, till the blood sipped through the new raw wounds. He screamed his confusion, because there was no _Father_, no _truth_, _nothing_ that he could believe in.

Nothing he could trust into.

Nothing.

…

Except those green eyes.


	5. The Famous One

**.Defiant One.**

**WARNINGS:** Kind of like a filler chapter. All mistakes you found - are on my conscience. Not a good english from a foreigner.

**A/N :** I admit I was lazy this time with the descriptions: because honestly, who doesn't know how the main characters look like? Use your memory pals! And I suck in battle scenes, or any other scenes except for angst. So yeah. No Hiccup/Toothless interaction this time. D; But considerably less mistakes, because I found myself aaaaaaaaaaaaa... BETA! All thanks to her for being awesome and making your reading more comfortable!

**DISCLAIMER:** I do not own anything related to How To Train Your Dragon.

**BETA: ****_I.F.T.S_**

* * *

_The Famous One_

* * *

You know that feeling that creeps up your spine when you walk through the crowded room? That feeling of hundreds eyes gazing at you, scrutinizing you, judging you? That feeling that leaves you nervously fidgeting, with sweaty palms and labored breathing, as everyone around you are sizes up your every move? Yeah, exactly _**that**_ feeling. And now, couple it with the uncomfortable feeling, when you hear a constant whisper following you whenever you went. And then multiply it by ten.

Yeah, now you can get the picture how Hiccup felt himself right now.

It all started in the morning, when an overly enthusiastic Gobber thudded into his door with his hook-hand, screaming for him to get his aft up from the bed and hurry up to the training grounds. When Hiccup managed to detangle himself from his blankets and calm down his erratic heartbeat, Gobber's words finally reached his fogged mind. In all honestly, since his father and most of the Village had left, he'd forgotten about the training his father wanted him to attend, because of everything that had happened since then. Very reluctantly he got up from his bed and proceeds to prepare for the very unpleasant day.

Oh, he didn't even know, how right he was about that.

As soon as he left his house and started towards the training grounds, he noticed that something was wrong. Very wrong. And as he took a glance around, he noticed that everyone… was staring. At him. _**At him. **_Glancing at him from what they were doing around, shooting side-long glances at him as they whispered, someone staring at him quite comically, as if seeing him for the first time in their life.

Well, for anyone but him, it could be considered as a coincidence; after all they just looked at him and maybe he just caught that moment when they did it. But no, Hiccup knew better than anyone that it couldn't be a coincidence. After all, nobody in the village never really looked at him. Most of the time he was cast aside and ignored by the others, barely receiving a glance in his general direction, while he snuck under the feet of the True Vikings. So this attention was a definite sign that something was amiss.

To avoid the sudden and very startling attention, Hiccup had hurried on to the training, hoping to get away from the prying eyes, but instead he had plunged into something worse.

The Training. Something that already mature Vikings passed through, and something that any child dreams to begin. Something that any other Viking teen (except for him) was excited to start as soon as they turned fifteen, for it meant that they are soon-to-be accepted into the adult society. The Training, where the young teens are taught and groomed into real warriors, and as soon as they are initiated, they are allowed to enter the real battle field and not sit and hid like all children do. So they could find their own glory out there. So they could defend their tribe. So they could make their parents proud.

So they could be killed.

When he was little (well…littler), Hiccup dreamed that when he started training he would become the Viking his father wanted him to be. To be the son worthy of his father's love. To be the heir everybody wanted him to be. To be someone else… not a _hiccup_. But years later, when he understands that he is different from his people, he started to expect the training with reluctance. And even after his injury… he understands that he doesn't want to (and now not really able to) start the training. He didn't want to learn how to kill on the battle field. It defies everything he believes in and stands for.

But he really can't say 'no' to his father, for at least the fact that Stoick won't listen to him.

So, now he stood here, where he didn't want to be, around the people he didn't want to be with. He ducked his chin into the scarf he wrapped around his neck and flinched now and then, as the whispering at his right grew more intense and he could hear a sound of smacking and arguing.

Another reason for his reluctance in joining the training – his peers. Another five teenagers, who are old enough to start to train.

Another five teenagers who've tormented him since his toddler's years.

It was just Hiccup's luck (or probably Gobber's laziness) to arrive before his mentor, who was responsible for their training. Which left him alone with his peers free to torment him.

"Hey Useless." In his line of vision appeared a face, with crooked teeth and nose that fitted the name – Snotlout. The older male with his dark brown hair and eyes, sturdy stature and bull-headed attitude – could hardly be related to Hiccup, but he was, indeed, related. Being the son of Spitelout, made him Hiccup's cousin.

"Maybe you can help us with something? You see, me and Astrid here are confused with what those crazy idiots told us." Snotlout said nicely, as he grabbed the front of Hiccup's vest and gestured with his head to the Thorston twins and others behind him.

"We are not crazy Snotty (even if I would be happy to be), we saw what we saw!" The female Thorston twin, Ruffnut, growled, shoving Snotlout away from the Stoick's son, before putting her face close to him and scrutinizing the smaller male. "But I can admit it's kind of hard to believe."

"Not so hard, if you look closer." Tuffnut, the male Thorston twin walked up to his sister, looking over Hiccup too. "His whole expression just screams 'evil'." He said in a dark tone, smiling toothily. His smile soon turned into a pained grimace as his sister jabbed him in the ribs with a scream of 'Idiot!' and they rolled away, struggling.

Fishlegs and Astrid were just standing there and looking at him, with kind of weird expression on their faces. Hiccup stepped away from the other teens and self-consciously tugged at his scarf, "Yeah, your conversation is utterly fascinating, but I'm pretty sure I don't know what you are talking about." He mumbled, trying to sound like his usual sarcastic and uninterested self.

The twins stopped their struggling, before sharing a mischievous look, they gathered themselves and draped their hands over Hiccup's scrawny shoulders, tugging him closer to the others, before he could escape.

"Now-now, Hiccup, you hide from us for so long and you think we will let you go now?" Tuffnut sang, punching the other male in the shoulder with somewhat excited tone in his voice.

Hiccup tensed at those words, fully expecting another blow, but this time the kind that will definitely leave a bruise. It was not unusual for his peers to get to the physical torment, beside the verbal. Many times before he returned home bearing bruises and cuts from the 'rough-housing' from his so-called 'friends'. But to his surprise there were no more punches, instead Ruffnut snuck her hands around his biceps and held him on place as she and Tuffnut started to speak.

"So, yesterday we were, like, walking and thinking-"

"-that maybe we can pull a prank on that Old Mildew-

"-after he, like, made us clean up his stupid cabbage-"

"-and we thought 'Hey, why don't we get that scratchy-grass and put it in his bed?'-"

"-so we went to the arena to gather it-"

"-and guess what we heard?-"

"-a scream that almost left me deaf!-"

"-coming from the arena-"

"-and after some time yours truly, running from the arena-"

"-covered in blood and with crazy eyes!"

A little dizzy and disoriented from the twin's mingling voices, Hiccup felt a terror grip at his mind. Oh, _**Gods**_ above, he was _**seen**_! They saw him running off after the events yesterday and when the twins know something, it means the whole village knows! That explains the looks, the whispering, the weird faces of Astrid and Fishlegs. Oh my Gods, _**what**_ should he _**do**_?!

"So, care to tell us Hiccup," Tuffnut leaned closer to the very pale Hiccup. "Since when do you become a master of torturing slaves?"

Torturing? They- _**they**_ though he had _**tortured**_ the slave? Wait, how did they even _**know**_ about the slave?

"I suspected something was wrong, when I heard that one of the slaves was bought by the Chief, but I didn't even think it was _**you**_ who wanted to have some fun!" Ruffnut cackled throwing her hands into the air with sort of sickening glee. "Who knew you are as cracked up as we are?"

"Dude, you should have told us earlier, we could have had so much fun together!" Tuffnut was jumping on his heels from excitement, completely ignoring the looks he was given.

Snotlout looked quit pissed off at the twin's babbling as he opened his mouth to sneer, "I'm telling you, The Useless is not capable of that, he is just too much of a whimp to even think of it! That slave probably scared him to death and he ran like a baby, hurting himself on the way." He rolled his eyes at thought of the overly clumsy Chief's son. "Another bit evidence that he is not a Viking."

Hiccup could admit it stung. But from the panic and fear of being discovered helping (not torturing, like everybody thought) the slave it was a non-existing prickle. The teen stepped away from the twins, stumbling a little on his prosthetic. What should he do now? His mind was blank as the fear occupied most of his being. He couldn't let them know that he was helping the slave – if it should surface… he is dead. And the slave would be dead too.

At this thought, Hiccup gathered himself. There was no time for hesitation. If they thought he had tortured him – then _**fine**_.

"It's not your business, what I was or was not doing." He said as coldly as he could, eyes trained on the little group. "So back off."

He could see they were surprised, by the looks they gave him. And his cousin looked even more so. He looked surprised and furious.

"Are _**you**_ trying to be all 'cool' and 'tough' here, _**Useless**_?" Snotlout spat, glaring back at him. "Did you forget your place, _**Cripple**_?"

Okay, that was low move. Hiccup straightened his shoulders, not backing off from the glare and insult, shooting a hard stare of his own, and was mildly surprised to see his cousin's face looking startled a little. Because usually Hiccup never fought back. Even verbally. But now he had something he needed protect, beside himself.

The tension in the air was dispersed by Gobber's arrival. Completely undeterred by anything, the man strode into the training arena, greeting everybody loudly and other teens reluctantly turned to face him, keeping their quiet.

Hiccup stood as far as possible from the others, but he couldn't help but shoot a look on the two teens that hadn't spoke through the whole thing. Fishlegs stood there, looking a little lost, like always, for he was a little awkward. The chubby and tall teen was shuffling on his feet, shooting glances at the twins and Snotlout with the face that said that he was having an inner debate with himself. Suddenly the blonde looked into Hiccup's direction and their gaze met for brief second, before Fishlegs hurried to look away.

His heart throbbed a little, as he looked how his once friend turned away from him with fear, apprehension and confusion clear in his little dark blue eyes. Hiccup knew Fishlegs probably better than anyone; at one time they could be called best friends, long before, when they were little. Hiccup's status in the village robbed him off his friend too, like it stole the love and respect he wanted so much.

Hiccup knew Fishlegs was confused, because he didn't know what to believe in. He probably didn't want to believe that his old friend was… like _**that**_. And Hiccup sincerely hoped Fishlegs won't think worse of him, because of what others had assumed… but…

As for the other… Hiccup's green eyes found Astrid, and she was standing there staring at him with her own light-blue ones. Her skin glowing in the sunlight and hair glistening with gold, as she stood straight and staring at him without any trace of shyness, with some kind of odd look in her eyes...

Gobber clapped loudly, bringing the attention at him, for what Hiccup was immensely grateful, as everybody turned towards the man. "Alright, listen up lads! Today we are starting the training! From this day, you are considered as adults. No more babying, sweet-coated words and kissing boo-boos to make them better." The smirk on Gobber's face didn't predict anything good, but the stern seriousness in his eyes was what brought shiver to Hiccup's frame. "I'm here to teach you what to do on the battle field, in other words – I'm here to teach you how to fight real."

"Hiccup here, already fought on the battlefield, does it mean he is free to go?" Snotlout snorted, jabbing his thumb in Hiccup's direction. The smaller teen flinched, when Astrid forcefully stepped on Snotlout's foot, earning a yelp from the boy.

Gobber continued as if nothing had happened, "Now pair up, we will go through the first lesson!"

Damn it, why always in pairs? Hiccup awkwardly stood not sure what to do, looking as Gobber wobbled away toward the chest he kept in the training arena for weapons. He was startled from his observations by a hand tapping him on the shoulder. He whirled around, and was more than shocked to see Astrid standing there.

"Come on." She waved her hand, beckoning him to go after him. Hiccup complied, but not before shooting a look behind him, but seeing a glare Snotlout sent him, he hurried after the blonde shield maiden.

They came on the one of the training ground with a few wooden dummies positioned around and Astrid bent to take her trusty axe from where she left it leaning against one of the wooden dummies. Hiccup tried not to look at her, as she plucked a rock from the earth and sat down to sharpen her axe. He was fidgeting nervously, trying to not to think about why the girl (the perfect warrior, the perfect Viking) would choose him (a failure) as a partner.

"Here-here, take the weapons and let us start." Gobber neared them, weighting differ sort of weapons in his hands. "Huh? Nice to see you two," The man blinked at them. "Together." The smith quietly handed a sword to Hiccup, who took it with a grunt from the sudden weight, and then Gobber left to the twins, not bothering to separate them.

Hiccup stared at the sword in his hands, a familiar feeling creeping up as he looked how sun's rays hit the blade, deflecting the light in million other rays. The metal in his hands was cold and unbearable heavy, settling some kind of fear in his heart as he thought about lifting it and then sinking it in someone else's flesh. He almost could see a blood running down the blade and onto his hands, staining his pale flesh-

"Hiccup." Astrid stood up, dusting her skirt and facing a startled Hiccup, who looked doubtfully at her than at the sword in his hands. "Let's start." She said, ignoring Hiccup's hesitance.

"Uh, sure." The scrawny teen mumbled, standing in front of the girl, dragging the sword behind him. Astrid stood there looking at him and Hiccup caught something in her gaze that made him pause. Her blue eyes were unusually soft as on her face etched something akin to understanding…

"You know that it's okay."

Hiccup blinked incredulously when on her lips appeared a little hesitant smile. So out of character, yet it suited her very nicely, and he wished she smiled more.

"I understand." Meanwhile she continued. "What you've done. After all it is… justified in your case. After… what happened." Her eyes darted towards hi left not-leg and then settled on his suddenly pale and contorted face. Her smile slid off, but her gaze stayed gentle, "I don't judge you."

Hiccup wasn't sure if he should be relieved or further frustrated or fearful. He decided that he would sort through his conflicting emotions later, when the raging war in his head will stop. So he nodded stiffly his thanks to her, and she seemed to be satisfied; her eyes hardened again and she swung her axe with a determinate nod.

"Now, let's start."

* * *

**R&R? **


	6. The Nameless One

**.Defiant One.**

**WARNINGS:** English from a foreigner~ And awkward conversations between a slave and a viking ;/ Awkwaaaard.

**A/N : **Long awaited** The First Real Confrontation **of the two maing chars!I'm not that good in conversations (a bad side of being socially awkward ;D) so if something seems weird for you - it's all my fault! Hope you will like this chapter.

**DISCLAIMER:** I do not own anything related to How To Train Your Dragon.

**BETA:** _**I.F.T.S**_ (who really is lifting up my self-esteem about my english ;D)

* * *

_The Nameless One_

* * *

Night couldn't come fast enough, but when it did, Hiccup was very grateful.

He trudged through the village silently, a little flame of his candle didn't light anything farther than two feet away and he paused every time he heard voices or saw a light. He had no desire to be seen, after what he had experienced today.

Without mentioning his utter failure (not very surprising) on the training (where he spent most of his time on his back with the axe pointing at various parts of his body), he spent his day trying to evade all villagers on sight. But it was very hard, considering that he needed to replenish his home food storage., and as soon as he stepped outside, his skin tingled from all the stares he received, while walking to the docks for some fish. A couple of times he could see some sort of weird look in villager's eyes – looking strangely like… approval? He wasn't sure. He tried not to pay attention to the people who suddenly were so aware –and so wrong- about him.

As fast as he could, he had taken what he needed and hurried back home, where he was safe from the following eyes. He wasn't sure what to do with the whole mess that started from his own stupid slip. He should have been more careful when he left the pens yesterday, but he was so shaken by everything, that he hadn't paid attention to anything around him that time. But at least… nobody had even suspected that he was visiting pens _**not**_ for _**torture**_.

Probably the thought of the Chief's useless son torturing a slave from the Drake Tribe was more plausible, than even the slightest chance that he was helping an enemy. Hiccup grunted, adjusting the heavy bag on his shoulders, as he neared the arena. Well, he never was the one to satisfy his tribe's expectations.

He paused at the entrance of the tunnels, taking a good look of the dark entrances and feeling slightly hesitant about coming. He could admit it – he was afraid. The angry red marks on his neck, hidden by the scarf, were a very fresh reminder that sent terror up his spine, leaving him trembling in his boots. But in front of his eyes flashed an image of bleeding figure and in his ears ringed a tearful wail that echoed through his mind, and he found himself already lightning up the torch and tucking a few spare ones under his arm as he limped into the tunnel.

Carefully navigating his way through the tunnel, he silently wondered if his journey was even necessary. Was the slave even there? After he opened the pen, he didn't bother to close it and even left the key there, after their… little encounter. The man would have for sure noticed it and made his escape, but as Hiccup neared the pen he was proved wrong.

The slave was still there. Injuries caked in blood, pale as ghost and quietly breathing on the floor in the middle of the pen facing the entrance. The untouched key is on the ground near the bars and the pen's door clearly still open. Hiccup stared, astonished. Not quite believing himself he stepped closer, but recoiled quickly when the slave opened his eyes and looked at him. Hiccup's throat restricted, but he swallowed his fear and stared back at the slave, flinching when the man sat up with a grunt.

"What are you doing here?"

The voice was raspy and scratchy, sounding more like an incoherent growl of the wounded animal, but he guessed it was from all the screaming and the lack of water. Strangely enough it suited the man's looks, and Hiccup found himself wanting to hear more of that voice, realizing that it was the first time he heard him speak (beside yesterday's yelling fest).

"I can ask the same question." The slave lifted an elegant dark eyebrow and Hiccup pointedly looked down at his feet at the key. The man grunted, but said nothing, just idly sat back against the wall, not really caring about his injured back. Feeling oddly disappointed, Hiccup bent down to put torches and the bucket of water he took with him and took the key and put it in the inner pocket of his vest, before putting his hand on the pen's door. He glanced at the man and noticed that he tensed, "Can I?.."

The man narrowed his eyes in suspicious look, "Why?"

Hiccup chewed at his lip, before blurting out, "I need to treat your injuries." Great job Hiccup, telling the man who you bought that you wanted to poke in the wounds inflicted by his father!

The dark-haired male looked at him long and hard, and Hiccup could see the battle of emotions in his expressive green eyes. Suspicious. Anger. Distrust. Hesitation. And some degree of curiosity. The man battled with himself for a little more, before heaving a sigh and slumping against the wall. His whole posture just screamed 'I don't care anymore' as his eyes tiredly looked down on the floor.

Bracing himself, Hiccup pushed the door silently, ducking through the entrance and allowing the torch to lighten up the pen a little better. Ignoring the foul smell of the stuffed and dirty pen, Hiccup set the light down and brought the bucket into the pen with the spare torches. The teen crouched a few feet in front of the man, setting his heavy bag on the floor near the bucket and lightning up a few more torches to see better. He glanced at the man, who hadn't move from his position nor lifted his eyes. Hesitating, Hiccup cleared his throat, "I… need you to turn to me with your back." He murmured quietly.

There was a pause before the man silently complied, exposing his back for the teen. Hiccup blinked and opened his mouth, words itching to spill out, but he quickly shut them down. He took out a cloth and damped it in the water, wringing it. Hiccup stretched his hand with a damp cloth forward, but it froze before it touched the red from the blood skin. His hand hovered hesitantly over the other's body, and he wondered if it was appropriate to touch the male. He had already given a permission to treat his wounds, so it should be okay, but Hiccup felt as if he is trying to overstep some kind of boundary that he shouldn't. The marks on his neck pulsed a little and he sighed. Well, the man probably already overstepped that 'touchy' boundary.

His hand moved and a cloth gently touched an irritated injury, and Hiccup felt and saw the slave tense at the contact. Slowly, so not to startle him more, Hiccup moved the cloth, the white quickly blotched a reddish pink, as more and more skin appeared from beneath all that blood. Slowly and steadily, Hiccup cleaned up the wounds, the water in the bucket turning from the crystal clear into a dark murky liquid. He could feel the other male's shoulders slowly relaxing at his movements and the tension in the muscles under the cloth slowly disappearing. Hiccup couldn't help but feel guilty for everything the man had to go through because of him, of his rash and impulsive decisions. But he vowed to himself that he will make it up for him.

The teen hung the rug on the edge of the bucket and took out a jar of nasty smelling ointment and a roll of bandages from the bag. Opening the jar, he scooped a generous amount of the green mush, but a made a pause in putting it on, enough to murmur to the man, "It's going to sting at first."

As soon as the mush touched the injuries, the slave tensed and a hiss escaped his lips. Hiccup flinched sympathetically, but continued to apply the ointment in thick layers over the wounds while the man flinched at every new touch.

"Don't worry. It will soon stop stinging and start to cool down." Hiccup reassured him, taking out the bandages and tapping lightly the man on the shoulder, gesturing him to lift his hands.

The slave grunted acknowledgment, as Hiccup started to wrap bandages tightly around his torso. The teen's mind flashed back to the days when he needed to treat his own injuries inflicted by forge accidents, walking accidents, bullies 'accidents' and accidental accidents. Returning home alone and beaten, he took out the always full medical kit he hid under his bed and spent his evening (or night) nursing his injuries. In times like this he missed the times when his… mother was still around.

A grunt snapped him out of his thoughts, "Why?"

Hiccup blinked, noticing only now that while wrapping he ended up in front of the slave. The man was staring at him with those dark green eyes from under his fringe of bangs – a genuine curiosity shining in them. Hiccup thought that it was strange to see such a childlike expression on a mature warrior, but nonetheless a pleasant change from the distrust and anger.

"Why what?" Hiccup asked, tying a knot on the man's chest and moving to start treating his hands.

The man watched as the teen took out another cloth and started to clean the scratches on his hands, only slightly wincing at the pain, "Why… are you doing this Little One?"

"Oh, I didn't know you wanted to die from the infection, sorry." Hiccup muttered, ignoring the 'Little One' comment, getting the ointment. "Isn't it obvious that I'm helping you?"

"That's exactly the point!" The man snapped, glaring at him, but his anger quickly disappeared, and he slumped again with a sigh, "Why are you helping me? I am your enemy… and yet here you are, the Little One, treating my wounds, bringing me food. I'm a slave! I'm dangerous! I tried to kill you for Thor's sake!" He growled out, and Hiccup flinched involuntary at this, not sure if the sudden anger was direct on the situation, at him or at all of the above.

Hiccup could feel the blazing glare of those eyes that had enraptured him from the first glance, as he continued to bandaging the man's hands. The boy sighed and tying the final knots, he sat back on his heels, glancing up at the slave.

"I'm helping you… because it is a right thing to do."

The man blinked, before snorting mockingly at the Viking boy in front of him, "'Right thing to do'? Where do you live Little One? Obviously somewhere in your little imaginary world, where there is no war. Because if you weren't you would have know that it's definitely not 'the right thing' to do, to let your enemy leave, so they could kill you as soon as chance appears."

"But then, why didn't you?"

The man's eyes zoomed at him, as Hiccup smiled softly at him, "Why didn't _**you**_ kill _**me**_?"

There was a silence, but Hiccup didn't wait for an answer. He turned back to his bag and got out the other things he brought with himself, while the other kept staring at him.

"You…"

Hiccup paused in filling the bowls with the cod soup from the pot, to look at the slave.

"…are a strange Little One." The man murmured, gazing down at his wrapped hands.

"Hiccup."

The man lifted his eyes, slightly raising an eyebrow.

"My name is Hiccup." The boy repeated, filling the other bowl and grimacing at the pieces of fish in the liquid. The man stared at him a little more, before a tiny, barely visible smirk graced his pale lips.

"You are an odd one… Little Hiccup." He said, accepting the bowl Hiccup handed to him.

"So are you…" Hiccup tilted his head thoughtfully. "Eh… what's your name?" He turned to the man awkwardly.

The nameless man paused, before the bowl touched his lips and gazed at him with some kind of glazed look in his eyes, "Name?" he murmured, looking down at the soup in his hands, "My name is of no importance."

Hiccup blinked, but said nothing, turning back to his own bowl of soup.

The man, once a proud warrior from the Drake Tribe, was sitting there next to him, defeated, but not really. If Hiccup needed to draw a parallel between him and the dragons they were named after, he could say that he was… a downed dragon. 'A downed dragon - is a dead dragon' the legends always say and the brave Viking in the end always manages to chop the crippled beast's head off. The flightless dragon is unable to hunt, thus it becomes weak and an easy target on the earth for predators or hunters. And more times passes, more it is weakens and become helpless. Unable to claw or bite its way past its enemies, for he is powerless to do so.

But the slave… still has his will to fight. To live. But yet, when he had a chance… he didn't attack. He had claws to tear him apart, but he didn't even scratch him. He had teeth to tear at his flesh, but he didn't even bite.

"Toothless."

The man looked at him again and Hiccup smiled shyly.

"May I call you Toothless?"

* * *

_The Namele- Toothless One_

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**I'm starving! Does anyone have a good bunch of fresh, tasty reviews?**


	7. The Ignorant One

.Defiant One.

**WARNINGS:** English from someone who is not fluent in it. Like - at all. ;D But I don't get depressed!

**A/N :** Sorry for late update. University decided to remind me that I'm still studying. Our education system sucks. On the good (?) note - in this chapter there is a big revelation, that makes this fic an AU (beside the obvious Human!Dragon-thing). It is the first revelation in the chain of following ones, but more details about Toothless' and Hiccup's past will follow. So prepare yourselves and tell me what you think about it~

*Munching at the bunch of reviews* Thank you everyone: _Simply Cool, PrincessOfTheNight01, wanchingtang, alessa-vulturi, Old Beginning New Ending, LouiLuvr, Saphireanime, anonomonomous, xXloveless19Xx_; who bothered to leave a review, and fav and follow this story!

**DISCLAIMER:** I do not own anything related to How To Train Your Dragon.

**BETA:** _**I.F.T.S**_ (who did an amazing job on my sucky english ;D)

* * *

_The Ignorant One_

* * *

It was a little sad that despite looking right at him, others didn't see him. Hiccup recalled a time when he craved such looks that villagers now gave him, but today he only quietly tries to slither away from the suffocating crowd and hurries back into the undisturbed pens.

He wasn't left alone during most of the day. Because of his training (in which he failed spectacularly) and the job in the forge (though it wasn't so busy there with most of the village gone) he constantly had (mostly unwanted) company of sort. During the training the twins nagged him about one thing or another, and their opinion of him changed considerably. Instead of mocking taunts and jeers, they initiated banter with him or just annoyed him for fun. Ruffnut took a habit of jumping on him at the random times and leaning to whisper crazy things _too close_ to his face. Tuffnut doesn't fail to ask Hiccup to join him in some insane thing or another, usually involving pranks or the deliberate maiming of someone. It was unusual, but not an unpleasant change. Their interaction could be called now… almost friendly. Despite how weird it was for Hiccup.

On the other hand there were Fishlegs and Astrid… Both of them acted weird around him; Fishlegs won't talk to him, avoiding being paired up with the smaller boy and running at the sight of him in the village. It wounded Hiccup to see his old friend's fidgeting when in close proximity of the Chief's son and looking at anything but him. Astrid, however, seemed to make her goal to be as indifferent as possible to him, as if nothing happened for her to pay attention to Hiccup. No she didn't avoid him or something like that, she just addressed him with cold indifference. But the small male noticed her looking with those strange understanding gaze that left him uncomfortable, while he struggled to dodge her axe as they trained with each other.

And then there was Snotlout…

His cousin just stopped acknowledging him. He doesn't look, doesn't mock and doesn't even sneer, if Hiccup fails in something. He just… stopped. He clearly didn't believe in the rumors the twins spread through the village, and sometimes Hiccup saw him grinding his teeth and become red in the face with anger when somebody talked about it, or the occasional glare in Hiccup's general direction. Hiccup could clearly see frustration on his cousin's too expressive face, and it really worried him. Snotlout was always a confident one, seeing him frustrated and a little… lost and confused, was strange.

But he had more pressing things to deal with, other than his new status in the village.

Hiccup marched towards the pens with a light in his steps and hope in his heart.

During these few weeks, the ma- _Toothless_- became better. His injuries had healed nicely, the new tissue and skin hiding those reminders of torture, thanks to Hiccup's constant supervision, daily re-bandaging and new ointments that he took from the Elder. He even managed to return a little of fat on those sunken face with his meals, that became larger and larger with every day, as Toothless became more lively.

Their complex relationships had improved too… somehow. They talked (well, mostly Hiccup talked) about nothing really important; Hiccup tried to keep mood light and pleasant (as much as possible), not really knowing what else they could talk about. The man, seemed perfectly okay with allowing Hiccup to ramble away in one of his rants, but sometimes he did ask questions or made an occasional odd comment or two (and he still called him Little Hiccup, even if Hiccup asked him to not call him 'Little'. His name was insulting enough without the addition of "Little".). Sometimes his questions were quite simple, sometimes… it seems that the man was confused or frustrated over the simplest things Hiccup talked about. He couldn't forget Toothless' expression when he talked about the training in his usual sarcastic and disapproving tone, mentioning his father's unwillingness . The man's features twisted, before becoming blank and guarded and he stopped speaking afterwards.

Hiccup quieted after that too, wondering if he had overstepped with mentioning a family. Family that probably is somewhere back there in the Drake Tribe, missing him so badly…

After all, Toothless is someone's son, someone's friend or loved one. And Hiccup's heart ached as he thought how much pain it brought them and Toothless to be so far away from each other.

And because of that pain (and massive guilt that crushed him), his resolve to help the man burned brighter, stronger; and he found himself smiling at the thought that soon he will free him. Soon he will do what he had planned.

He had planned the escape very carefully, taking care to not to alert Gobber or anyone else who paid close attention to him of his plans. He planned to sneak Toothless out of the village in the midst of night, and lead him to the isolated shore, from where the man will be able to row his way out into the open sea long before the village will wake up. He won't need to worry about someone noticing Toothless had disappeared; the Vikings usually check him during the midday to bring a measly amount of food (if that undistinguishing mush can be called that) and water to let the slave live, and by that time Toothless will be probably half way from the Berk to wherever his home was. He prepared supplies, enough for a long journey and warm clothes for Toothless, and he made sure that man was fit for long travels.

He wasn't really worried that somebody will suspect him of helping the slave. After all he was the one who 'tortured' the slave on nearly a daily occasion, what reason will he have to set him free?

He was happy because the man will be finally released, but he felt a little sad too. Hiccup knew it was selfish of him to be sad that someone who was enslaved will be finally free, but somehow… he had warmed up to Toothless. And he noticed that man seemed to accept him too. He wasn't tense or nervous near him anymore and he didn't try to escape either. But he was sure that the man will be ecstatic when Hiccup informs him about his plan.

That's why he was in a rather good, even if a little wistful mood, as he entered the pens and greeted Toothless, "Good evening Toothless."

"Little Hiccup." The man nodded his greetings from his position on the floor, where he sat cross legged and leaning with his back against the wall. Hiccup ignored the 'little' thing again and wondered mentally if the man was mediating. After all, what else there is to do all day in the place from where you can't go away?

"I brought you the fried fish like I promised." Hiccup opened the door with the key and left it wide open, like every time he goes there. "It's still warm, so dig in." Hiccup put the little woolen basket in front of the man and sat a little away to allow the man eat in peace, as Hiccup started to talk, "You know I'm not that really good in cooking fish, so I hope you won't be too disgusted with it."

"It's okay." Toothless muttered between his chewing, "A little burned, but okay." He added after a little pause with a barely audible teasing note in his voice and Hiccup smiled broadly at the man's good mood. He specifically brought the fish, because it seems that Toothless liked aquatic dishes. The teen sat with the back against the bars, looking at a munching away Toothless and imagined him doing this somewhere in the forest, in front of the fire, cuddled in a blanket and sitting on the log, free and happy… And Hiccup imagined himself somewhere in this picture too.

"What's with your face, Little Hiccup?"

Hiccup quickly stopped smiling at Toothless' suspicious look, "Nothing, nothing…" But then the smile returned ten-fold at his next words, "Just imagined you eating fish with the same satisfaction back at yours home."

Toothless paused with water skin at his lips and stared wide-eyed at Hiccup, but the teen ignored the man's look and continued to talk excitedly.

"I meant to say this to you from the beginning, but, well, there was never a good chance. You know, with your recovering and stuff, and honestly I was still in preparation of the plan. And maybe I was a little skittish and probably managed to make Gobber suspicious, but I think it will work! Yeah, it surely is going to work, I'm certain. But still, we will need to take some precautions and be careful and all that stuff, but I'm sure that we will do it… After all they are out there waiting, and probably mourning and I'm kind of uncomfortable about all of this, because you know some of that is my fault and all, so I hope I can help and you will be soon with them and hopefully they won't want to attack Berk and take my hide for everything when you tell them. Because I really would like to stay with my other limbs intact and- " Hiccup glanced at the man with a nervous laugh. "Oh, yeah, I'm rambling. Sorry. Right." Hiccup cleared his throat and inhaled deeply, staring straight into Toothless eyes.

"Toothless, tonight we are going to get you out of Berk. You will be able to go home."

There was a silence in which they both continued to stare at each other; Toothless still with his hand up and Hiccup with a smile on his lips that slowly melted away, as the other male failed to respond to such wonderful news.

"I…I know… that it's probably… eh, weird for you what I'm doing… but my words from that day were a complete truth…"

_**-"I… I understand…" -**_

"I m-meant… what I said back then…"

_**- "I h-hope… at least… **__you…__** will get out…"-**_

"And I will stick to my words. I will help you escape. I will help you to return back home-"

"_**Home**_?"

Hiccup paused at the weird tone of Toothless voice, staring as the man lowered the water skin, his grip so tight that his knuckles turned white. The man's head was bowed and his dark hair cascaded a shadow that hid his face from the flickering light of the torch.

"Y-yeah, you will return home Toothless. I bet your family and friends are missing you…" Hiccup's voice softened and he averted his eyes in shame, "…After all, you are a prisoner here-"

"Prisoner?" A snort and harsh low laughter was an unexpected reaction and Hiccup stared back at Toothless, taken aback by it. "Here, I had more freedom then I had had ever in my life."

"W-what are y-you talking about Toothless? Here you are a prisoner! A s-slave!" Hiccup stuttered confused at the man's eerily laughing mood. "You aren't a slave, you shouldn't be! You should be back at home with your family-"

"_**Family**_! Ha!" Toothless shook with laughter, the water skin falling from his grip and splashing the water on the rock floor. "You really are not from this world, are you, Little Hiccup?"

The teen was now lost and a little terrified at strange and unnerving sight of the roaring with laughter man, "I-I don't understand! Toothless, I'm talking about your home!" Hiccup shouted over the laugh, slightly panicking; did the man lost his mind? "Don't you understand? I'm talking about you going back to your tribe-"

"_**Tribe**_!" There was a slight hysterical note in Toothless voice as he laughed more, before roaring at Hiccup, "I have _**no**_ tribe! I have _**no**_ family you are talking about!"

There was a defining silence after that confession. Hiccup sat there on his place with back pressed far into the bars, and Toothless was standing on his knees in front of the spilled water; both staring at each other, one confused, another with eyes darker than night outside.

"W-what…" Hiccup swallowed, "…are y-you talking about?.."

Toothless snorted, "Of course, you Hooligans never noticed." The man stood up clenching his fists, "You are too blind to see it, even if it is right in front of your eyes! Fools! Ignorant fools!" Toothless stared down at cowering Hiccup, "And you are the biggest, the most ignorant fool I had ever encountered, if you suggested for me to return… to _**him**_." Toothless spat out bitterly.

Hiccup just sat there, more terrified than when Toothless had pounced at him in his rage and tried to strangle him. That time there was a blind, uncontrollable anger and confusion in those tearful green eyes, but now… Now there was a cold fury that could rival the harshest winter night on Berk and poisonous hate that could destroy a person who carries it in his heart.

"You know nothing of us, don't you?" Toothless asked, mostly rhetorically as he continued, advancing at the teen and not acknowledging Hiccup's wide gaze. "You fight us, yet you pay so little attention to us. When you catch us, you don't notice that there is no will to fight in us. But where will be that will?" Toothless stood over Hiccup and barked out a short laugh, "When there is no difference for us in which slavery we are going to die?"

Hiccup's lips opened further at disbelief. _**What**_ he was talking about?..

"Of course you won't notice. _**Father**_ had trained us good. Years and years, he drilled that in our minds, painted it with ours blood on our bodies, whispered the lies and fears in our ears. He had done a good job in making us his faithful servants, powerless pets-" Toothless' voice dripped with venom at each word, "Good, obedient _**slaves**_!" the man roared out, punching the bars of the pen, the shock of the impact shaking the metal and Hiccup pressed to them.

"T-the… Red Death… " Hiccup's voice was trembling in the quietness of the pen. "_**Enslaved**_ you?"

Toothless burning green eyes focused on Hiccup's wide ones.

"He never enslaved us." On the man's face was a smile that sent chills along Hiccup's spine. "We were _**born**_ to be his slaves."

Hiccup stared, his mind blank, as the man moved away from him, to the far back of the corner, probably to curl up into a defensive ball with his back to the entrance. He stared until he couldn't stare anymore, and later when he was in his bad late in the night, he continued to stare unseeingly ahead, in the eyes of the caged animal.

And Hiccup couldn't help but wonder…

How could you free someone… who wasn't free from the beginning?


	8. The Free One

**.Defiant One.**

**WARNINGS:** A little of angsty darkness and change of POV! (But with a little fluff in the end ;3)

**A/N :** I apologise for the late chapter. Exams and finals are here people! Beware the sleepless nights and anxious waiting! I have three exams next week, and thank god that not more; holidays saved us! Anyway, I will try to write the next chapters faster, 'cause they kind of explain many things. ;3 But now you can enjoy another chapter in Toothless' POV!

**DISCLAIMER:** I do not own anything related to How To Train Your Dragon.

**BETA:**_ I.F.T.S_ (I wish her good luck with her finals too, thought they are still a week away.)

* * *

_The Free One_

* * *

The sound of dripping water echoed in the darkness, bouncing from the rock surface and filling the air; allowing his body to move in rhythm with the constant _drip_-_drip_ counting the times his body moved back and forth, back and forth.

A memory of the wide green eyes glistening in the light-

"_**W-what… are y-you talking about?.."**_

-pink lips opened in a surprised gasp-

"_**T-the… Red Death… **__Enslaved__** you?"**_

-a face full of disbelief, shock and _pity_-

The man panted, pushing his body to its now laughable limit, feeling the satisfying exhaustion creeping up his spine as his hands strained to keep his weight up. But despite the content feeling of his stretched muscles, the thoughts that usually didn't bother him during the exercises, kept plaguing him, attacking him with images and memories-

Why had he told the Little One about… He didn't plan to do it. He didn't plan it at all. It was wrong of him to speak about _**that**_ to the enemy, to other than his fellow men, or… _Father_. But that face, hopeful and bright as he talked about freedom, about _**his**_ freedom…

It _**sickened**_ him.

So innocent and ignorant. The foolish Little One. He lived in the Viking Tribe of killers and raiders, yet he wasn't like them. It was confusing; how someone from the same breed could be so unlike from his people. He was one of those who imprisoned him, yet he talked about his freedom so eagerly. The Little One didn't know. But it didn't change the fact that the Little One was frustrating with his ignorance.

His mind, trained from birth like his body, screamed to not to trust, to flee, to return to _**Father**_ and kill the Little One, who was the enemy. He wanted to crush such innocent ignorance in a tight grip of reality, of blood and fear that he knew from the very beginning. Because it was not fair –nononono_**notfair**_!- that the Little One was free of the truth; living in this comfortable lie, while he slowly suffocated in his darkness.

However his heart, begged him to not to do it, to listen, to-

He wasn't really sure what his heart wanted. Actually it was quite a foreign feeling for him; that heartache and squeeze of that important muscle in his chest was unknown and a little frightening. It thudded painfully hard against his ribs as he thought about The Little One and his speeches of freedom; and tore his chest when he thought about _Father_. Before, he had no reason for such indescribable… emotion. Before, everything was simple. Full of pain, fear, disgust – but simple. Because he didn't know anything else. He knew no gentle eyes or silly talks. He knew no food filled with care or little warm hands. He knew no smiles, or hopes, or-

He knew only cold blood-stained hands, clasping and squeezing his shoulders, and 'Well done' that settled like a heavy weight in his abdomen. He knew nights and days filled with training, fighting, surviving. He knew of masters and servants.

He knew no family.

No love.

He didn't know. That's why it was hard to comprehend this Little One. So full of everything he didn't understand.

He sat with his legs crossed, his hands resting on his knees as he inhaled deeply, in attempts to calm his erratic mind, hoping to restore at least something familiar to him. Where was his calm demeanor and indifferent attitude, as he was known for back _**there**_? Where was his image of the blood-thirsty warrior he wore on the battlefields? Where was that faithful beast that kills without a question or hesitation at his _Father's_ command?

Where was _**the Night Fury**_?

He probably disappeared when he allowed himself to be captured by the enemies, leaving only…

Leaving…

Who?

His eyes snapped open and he inhaled sharply as he heard footsteps nearing his location.

The Little One. Came as always, with the torch in his hand and a bag slung over his shoulder, staring at him with those damn green eyes through the bars. He was a little surprised. He was sure that the Little One wouldn't return after his harsh words yesterday. He was more than certain that that annoying spark in those eyes will die away, but… the Little One was staring at him, with the same gaze he looked at him that first time.

Neither of them moved, nor they spoke. They just silently regarded each other through the bars separating them.

Why did he come? He couldn't help but wonder. He refused to accept the Little One's help in escaping somewhere he didn't want to return to. So what kind of an aim could the Little One have now?-

The metal door creaked deafeningly loud in the silence, and the Little One extended his hand free of the torch towards him. What did he want? Why he didn't say anything? He stared at the hand, feeling strangely apprehensive and with a startled realization understood that his body was tense like a string of a bow. He was nervous. No, no… He was afraid. Afraid of what the Little One was doing, was going to do. Was he still returning him to _Father_? _**No**_! He didn't want to go back there. His eyes darted to the Little One's face, expecting to see a hard and determinate expression on the young face, but he only saw brown locks, a nose and a round chin peaking from behind the curls. The Little One's head was lowered, and his eyes and expression hidden as the hand was still suspended in mid-air palm up towards him, looking innocent and harmless.

The Little One wasn't here to force him into doing something.

The Little One was giving him a choice.

He stared at the hand in disbelief, hesitance and with a little bit of shyness. Moving carefully, as if afraid of scaring the Little One when out of the two here the one freaked out was he himself, the man stood up and stepped closer to the entrance and to the boy. Almost involuntary his hand twitched towards the extended one, allowing it to slowly hover over the other's hand. An electrifying and tingling feeling of skin to skin contact sent a shiver up his spine, and he felt the Little One's fingers curl shyly around his slack ones.

"Can you trust me?"

He blinked when he noticed that the Little One was now looking at him. Already familiar green eyes were staring into his pair, calling and promising with that damn sparkle dancing along the lashes. The echo of Night Fury somewhere in the depths of his heart snarled and hissed curses and refuses, but he wasn't the Night Fury anymore. He didn't know who he was and he didn't know what to answer to such a question. Can _**he**_ trust the Little One?

"Can you trust me, Toothless?"

Well… if he wasn't _the Night Fury_ who couldn't trust… maybe _Toothless_ can take this risk?

His heart was thundering so loudly he couldn't hear anything except for it, and like in a trance he nodded at the boy.

A little pleasant smile appeared on the brunet's face and he tugged him by the hand into the corridor, and soon they were far from his cage and stepping into a cool night.

The cold fresh air on his face and in his hair was a shock and he took a moment to inhale greedily that sweet aroma of winter and salty water. He wasn't down there that long, only a little less than a month, but strangely enough it felt like months, years,… life. He couldn't feel himself move, guided by the Little One, as he stared at the outside world, so different yet familiar at the same time.

The night was fresh and crisp, and the moon shone brightly; its rays playing on the leaves and grass as they stepped into the forest. There was a light layer of snow on the trees and earth, making everything glow with serene light and he found himself entranced by it. He was used to this kind of scene be painted in red and black, instead of white and dark blue, but he sure wasn't complaining. He noticed distant lights, when they rose higher and the trees became rarer, and recognized them as the lights of the village. He tensed involuntary, thinking that the Little One was going to lead him into the village, but was startled out of suddenly troubling thoughts by a hand squeezing his own.

He blinked, when he noticed that the Little One was glancing back at him with a wide reassuring smile and instantly relaxed at that. He was putting his trust into the Little One. So, he will trust him.

He turned back to observe the village that was becoming farther and farther away as they moved. It was strange to see it like this. He was used to a sight of panic, fire and sounds of battle screams, than to this… peacefulness. The village was still, blanketed in the sleep and just occasional flicker of one of lights signaled that someone was still out. Soon the forest became thicker and the moon hid behind the clouds and they were plunged into darkness. Only then he noticed that there was no torch in the boy's hands. Probably the Little One left it in the arena so they won't be noticed. But it was pretty impressive how, despite the lack of light, the Little One moved swiftly through the forest. Even if he was stumbling and tripping, he moved confidently as knowing by heart the path they were taking and his petite hand didn't lose its grip on his own bigger one.

The sound of the night life was loud to his keen ears. He could hear an occasional howl of a lone wild boar and a rare sound of wings flattering signaled about a random bat flying around. The melody of the wind was accompanied with a song of whispering leaves that moved with it. Their own footsteps and breathing somehow fell in tune with the rhythm of night as they continued on their way.

The Little One's hand was blazingly warm against his own that was already cold from the wind. He could feel every bone and muscle of that appendage as the boy tugged him forward, fingers flexing around his long ones. He noticed that their skin were different; his - ghostly pale in the glow of moon and snow, and the Little One's - darker in comparison to his, with an occasional freckle then and there. His observation was cut short when that freckled hand squeezed his as its owner stumbled and yelped, bringing both of them down.

Almost reflexively his arms found a skinny form, hugging the Little One close as they fell and rolled down, the world around them becoming a blur. He grunted when something dug into his shoulder as they tumbled through the grass and bushes, before experiencing a moment of free fall and then landing into an ungraceful heap into the pile of snow.

A groan under him signaled that he had squashed the one who was responsible for their sudden predicament.

"Ouch… Stupid leg…" he heard the Little One mutter, his breath ghosting over his chest where the boy was pressed to. A contrast between the warmth of the body in his arms and the cold air and snow nipping at other parts of his anatomy was strangely comforting. A brief thought that it was a first time in years since he had held someone so close in his hands escaped into his mind as the said body shifted in his arms.

"I was sure that steep was farther away…" The Little One continued to murmur, shivering in his arms and he involuntary tightened his hold on him. The Little One's head snapped up to stare at his face at the gesture, and he looked back down at him. Feeling strangely self-conscious looking into those eyes, he released his hold and rolled away from the boy, who stood up and shook snow from himself.

He stood up too and lifted his head to look where they fall into. It was a cove. With high rocky walls and a little lake occupying most of the space. It looked secluded and undisturbed except for a human-sized hole in the snow behind them. The Little One stumbled through the cove, as if ignoring him, heading towards the roots of a tree that rose high above the cove. He disposed his bag in the little crevice and took out from there… the wood.

While he stared in silent bewilderment, the Little One worked, making a fire near the roots and cleaning snow on the roots to sit on. The boy took out of his satchel a raw fish wrapped into a cloth and a roll of bread, all the while not looking at the man who was watching at him.

The man blinked, before hesitantly moving to the fire and sitting next to the boy, who handed him one of fishes pinned on a stick and proceed to roast his own. In the same silence they cooked, then ate (dividing the bread between them) and the Little One produced a little metal pot, which he hooked over the fire and heated water with leaves in there, and getting cups poured the hot liquid for them to drink. They drunk the warm beverage under the moonlight and sound of chattering foxes and crickets.

When the last of the tea was consumed, he spoke, slowly and thoughtfully as he stared into his own mug.

"What…is this place?"

The Little One pursed his lips and leaned the mug on his knee, scratching with his other hand his chin, "Well… I found this cove when I was little –was running away from Snotlout- and since then it kind of become my safe haven, you can say. I keep here some of my things, for emergency." He jabbed his thumb at the crevice between tree roots, "One time I spent a whole night here. Nearly froze to death, but it was nice. Life-threatening, but nice nevertheless. Better than to return to dad."

He lifted his head to watch the boy, who shyly playing with the handle of his mug.

"It was in one of the raid nights." The Little One continued, "The Berserks got offended over one thing or another and decided to pay a visit. Appeared at the dawn, in hopes to catch us by surprise, but they really miscalculated the time we are getting up." The boy laughed a little, "They arrived to a bunch of grumpy, early-risers Hooligans – ready to defend the island. Let's say that they never tried to do it again after that." Then his voice become more solemn, "Thought it didn't go without a hitch. I was in the forge when the attack happened, 'cause I fell asleep there last night, and when everyone thundered to get their weapons, I kind of-…" he sighed, "…tripped and sent an oil can into the forge. So yeah, then BOOM and we needed to repair the forge. Some of those whose weapons got caught in the explosion where forced to fight with pickaxes and rakes, and while nobody died, a lot got injured both during the raid and explosion… Dad was furious." The brunet's face was somewhere between humorless amusement and tired acceptance. "He didn't yell, but his face… I decided not to wait around to hear him yell and run here. I didn't take anything with me, so I spent all night here in the cold, afraid of lightning a fire if anybody was out there looking for me." He snorted at that; knowing that no one would have bothered to do so.

"When I came back in the morning, he didn't yell. Didn't speak. Just… looked at me and then left."

The Little One spoke in detached tone with a wry smile on his lips, as if telling some old joke.

"Anyway, the moral of the story is that it is a great place to 'run away', so to speak, from the world." The brunet laughed quietly, gathering snow into his hand. "Thought it's better to do so when there is less… snow. I think I still have water in my pants, because you squashed me."

"You dropped us." The words left his mouth faster then he thought, and he could see the Little One's surprised eyes at his answer, before his lips quirked upwards.

"It was an accident!"

"_**You**_ dropped us." He repeated, feeling his own face move into an amused expression. "Into the snow."

The Little One huffed, "I was the one who was mostly in the snow. You barely even touched it." A grin spread on his lips and he shot him a look, "I think we should remedy it."

He opened his mouth in confusion at the words, but was shut with a snowball in his face. There was a surprised gasp from the boy and then poorly suppressed laughter. He wiped the thawing snow from his face, narrowing his eyes at the shaking Little One as something burned into his chest and a wide grin of his own stretched on his lips as he scooped some snow and lunged for the boy. A yelp escaped the brunet as they were sent flying from the root he was seating on and into the snow and earth. They wrestled and rolled, playfully grunting and yelling at each other as they drenched their clothes and bodies.

As they finished, they were left breathless and cold after their struggling, lying face up on the earth near the fire. He stared at the stars and the clouds on the midnight blue and black sky, feeling other's body heat near him as the boy panted and huffed from their actions.

"See? I totally beat ya Toothless."

He closed his eyes and laughed softly.

* * *

**Review? ;D**


	9. The Broken One

**.Defiant One.**

**WARNINGS:** AngstMemoriesAngstMentionofUnderageFightingAngstBl oodAngstTears and a little fluff (i think that's all)

**A/N :** This chapter was ready like week ago. Sorry, Life slapped me a couple of times. This and the next chapter are basically what I was writing this fanfic for. These two scenes were in my mind the whole time and I couldn't wait to write them. Well, now I wrote them. Expect update the day after tomorrow. Probably.

By the way character in this chapter is not OC. Identity will be revealed in next chapter.

**DISCLAIMER:** I do not own anything related to How To Train Your Dragon.

**BETA:**_ I.F.T.S_ (Who really-really spoils me with her compliments)

* * *

_The Broken One_

* * *

They laid there under the stars and the glow of the campfire, shivering in their wet clothes in the cold air for some time. The moon as the great unblinking eye stared down at them, but for the first time in many years he- Toothless didn't feel uncomfortably naked under its scrutinizing gaze. He could feel his limbs numbing a little from the nipping frost, but it was... Nice. Life-threatening… but nice.

The Little One next to him moved, his teeth clattering very loudly as he stumbled back to the campfire, from where they rolled quite a distance away. Toothless lifted his head to look as the brunet shifted through his hidden belongings in the crevice of roots and produced from there a thick fur blanket and a slightly worn out brown shirt. Noticing him looking, the Little One smiled with his pale lips, "I said that I've got things for an emergency."

Toothless smiled to himself and stood up, removing his wet shirt and taking the blanket offered by the brunet. Hanging the shirt over the fire where the metal pot previously was, he sat back on his place cuddling into the tickling him blanket. He blinked when he noticed that the Little One already changed into the brown shirt, added branches into the fire and sat down across from him. The brunet's body was still noticeably trembling from the cold and it took less than a second for Toothless to make a decision and another two to stand up and to sit next to the boy. The brunet startled badly when he put the blanket over his shoulders, but Toothless only shifted closer so they were pressed thigh to thigh and shoulder to shoulder.

"We'll be warmer like this." he murmured, wrapping the blanket tighter around them.

The Little One squeaked as they pressed to each other and fidgeted at their closeness (and probably Toothless' half naked state), but relaxed as soon as the combined warmth of the blanket, another body and the fire slipped through his freezing body.

It felt alien and almost surreal, sitting here in front of the dancing flames with another person. Heck, the whole situation seemed like one of the dreams Toothless used to have when he was a youngling and when he still had what to dream about**_. _**Toothless looked into the flickering fire and listened to the breathing of the Little One. Its steady rhythm and the warmth around him that seemed to sip through his bones and into his very soul, lulled him into a peaceful state of mind that he couldn't reach by any training or mediating for a long time already.

"We are born from the youngling years."

The words were muttered quiet and he wasn't sure what spurred them out. Was that the unreality of this situation? Or the presence of someone who he knows will listen? Nevertheless, his mouth moved as if on its own accord, as he gazed into the fire, hypnotized by seemingly matching pattern the flames moved with the inhaling and exhaling of the Little One.

"He selects us personally: visits our nurseries as soon as we learn to walk, talk and are taught who are we and what for we are existing." He could remember the day Father came to them; looming over each of them like a snake over newly hatched prey, the emotionless eyes cold and piercing as he walks over their rows, selecting and choosing. "He sees who has a potential for archery, who for a sword wielding. Or if any of us particularly catch his eye." Toothless still remembers how those cold eyes landed on his little, frightened out of his mind form and the glint that entered that glossy, bloodlust gaze. Curious. Interested. _Promising_.

"The training starts soon after that and they do not find it necessary to go easy on a child. They are ruthless. Strict. Unmerciful. We were thrown into the mountain lion pit and told to claw our way back. We were left facing a pack of hungry wolves with only a blunt knife as a weapon. We were left in the forest in the midst of winter and told to survive till the summer no matter what." The old scars stung at the memories, but the warmth of another body soothed them enough so he was able to continue with his memory trip. "It is a selection; the weak ones were disposed off in the first few sessions, some were not lucky enough to last until the end." He swallowed loudly, in front of his eyes the faceless nursery mates broken and lifeless on the ground as he trembles, but moves forward over them and up.

"Those who survive are left facing the best fighters in the match. To the death."

He remembers the fear, the mad fear that clawed his way into his mind when he entered the area with one single man standing on the sand painted in red. Around, the bodies of previous ones who tried to fight for their way out. He remembers the fog that entered his mind when the first droplet of blood was spilled; that numbing state when he finally snapped. He felt nothing, knew nothing, except for -_killkillkillkill__**kill!survive**_- and he lunged for the man like a hungry predator ready to rip out the guts and spill more of that crimson life-force, while somewhere in the corners of his broken mind the sanity tried to claw its way back and screamed for him to **_stop_**!-

Toothless startled when a small hand clasped around his trembling one. Warm and comforting. Anchoring him. The man inhaled and relaxed his stiff muscles, shooing away the memories, the feelings; trying to return his calm and indifferent demeanor, returning into the role of unattached story-teller rather than the man who dwells in the past.

"In the end there were six of us left from our group. It was our tenth winter." Toothless closed his eyes in a minute of mourning for his non-existed childhood. The Little One's hand squeezed lightly and he thought that it was frightening how much meaning and comfort this gesture brought him.

"After that, we were trained and tutored in vast of different areas; from martial arts to axe throwing. We were given names and purposes by him and told our roles in his tribe. We become well-groomed servants who were ready to bow at his first command. We were perfect warriors for his own army. When one of us falls in a battlefield, another will stand on his place. We are an army. We are a legion." The words left a familiar disgusting taste in his mouth. They were engraved into their mind as their bodies undergo the merciless, never-ending training. They were repeated over and over again through the old seasoned warriors and fresh fledglings in a battle as a mindless mantra or oath to **_Father_**. He himself repeated them every day as he kneeled in front of that man and pledged his loyalty, mind and life to him. They showed who they were: the replaceable slaves for the monster.

"But you are not."

The Little One's voice was wavering with suppressing emotions, but the _confidence_ in it was the most overwhelming; like a strong wave of pure resolve blasting him into the face, leaving Toothless gasping and trembling at the force. "I saw it in your eyes there in the arena and every time I faced you. **_You_** are **_not_** a slave."

How could this Little One read him only from one fleeting look...?

He gathered the pieces of himself to continue his story, trying to ignore the erratic beating of his heart at those words (NotaSlaveNotaSlaveNotaSlave**_HeWasNot_**).

"I was told the truth." He nodded wistfully and directed his gaze into the sky. "When my eleventh winter came, we were shown the mines and working fields. Filled with the slaves. Not the born one like us, but from those tribes which were conquered or raided by him. There was... one woman. She was chained and bound, but yet her gaze was strong and her head was held high. They tried to break her many times, but for every time she fell, she stood up again. Once when I was on the night training, I somehow ended up near her cage and she spoke to me..."

* * *

"Hey, boy."

The lithe boy with dark hair was startled out of his post-running exhaustion from his place on the earth where he laid his tired body, with stubborn intention to take a little rest and continue to run after. He swept his eyes over the secluded place he stopped in; the outskirts of the slaves cage camp, behind the entrance into the mines. He couldn't see anybody around, only rock and craters with a lot of trash, but he caught a sound of soft breathing.

"You are one of them, hmm?" the same voice hummed and he whirled around to stare at the cage he didn't notice at first. The cage stood in the shadowy place near the broken old trolleys and there was a filthy cloth draped over it so he couldn't see the one who spoke, beside its glistening eyes visible through the hole, but he identified the raspy voice as female's.

"Aren't you a little young to be a warrior?"

The voice carried a light and a little teasing note in it, which was weird and it made the dark-headed boy feel strangely uncomfortable and shamefully fearful (because he **_doesn't_** feel **_fear_**) at the bodiless voice and eyes.

"You had no permission to speak, slave." He hissed out, more out of the fear than anger, standing up a little hesitant where to move; farther or closer to the cage.

The female laughed, not a charming sound with her hoarse voice, but there was no malice in it, just honest amusement that sent shivers up his spine. What was wrong with this slave?

"Since when do I need permission to speak with another slave?" The boy froze at this, not really comprehending what she meant.

The female sighed almost gravely and shifted closer to the bars; her pale and sunken face visible now along with her upper body. She was thin and bruised, signs of enslavement and torture bluntly evident. But if you look closer you can still see the beauty and strength she possessed before; with her definitely tall stature and long neck. Her hair, dirty and almost colourless now, held signs of a beautiful vibrant colour that he couldn't a name for now. Her dark green eyes, two sunken and dulled diamonds on her bloodless face, held pity towards the confused boy, as she gazed at him from her cage.

"That's what you are, boy. Don't let the lies and illusions trick you: you are a slave like me, only with another status. And I can't say it's any better than mine."

"You are crazy." He choked out, his heart thudding loudly in his ears, as he unconsciously backed away from the harmless captive. "Y-you are... W-what are you talking about? Why are you- Why are you lying? It won't give you anything!"

"It will give me something, because I'm telling the truth." She continued to stare at him with those eyes that seemed to burn in the dark and through his very soul, leaving him naked and exposed for them to see his dirty, dark thoughts and secrets.

"You poor, **_poor_** child."

But there was no disgust on her face and in her eyes. Instead, her voice held something he was unfamiliar with. Something alien and frightening, because his body tingled in response to this tone of voice and his heart was ready to burst through his chest.

"They poisoned your mind, making you believe that you are to be warriors. They robbed you of your childhood and your families, just for their benefit. You poor, poor children..."

Why she looked so upset? So angry? Why she spoke like she pitied them more, when she was the one beaten and imprisoned? And **_what_** she spoke **_about_**?!

"Wh-wha-" he stuttered out, too confused to form sentences or thoughts. Just staring at this woman who was scaring and calling out for him in the same time with her gaze and words.

"Listen, boy. They tell you about what a glory it is to serve your chief. They tell you that you are going to be his pride, his warriors. They tell you about the life outside the tribe, where everybody won't hesitate at killing you, so you need to fight, to kill first, before they will do it to you and then to your Chief. They make you promise your bodies and minds for them to use and dispose like they want and in exchange, promising you Valhalla on the earth; where you won't need to worry about anything except for serving your God, that is not a god, but a demon in a human skin. They pour lies into your young minds, leaving nothing human, but the desire to hurt and kill for someone else's pleasure. They make you see only black, disregarding any other colour, so you won't be able to see the truth." Her eyes were filled with fury and pain as she spoke the words that stabbed him harder than any sword or spear.

"You are slaves, who don't know that they are slaves, believing yourself to be not. Which is much worse than being just a slave like me. I know who I am, even if I am a slave right now."

She stared down at him with pity, but coldly.

"Do you know **_who_** you **are**?"

"I… I…" He couldn't speak. His mind was in a whirlpool of emotions. **_Who was he?_**

He is the young prodigy of the tribe, who is capable of taking down five fully-grown men at his **_Father's_** first command. He is a faithful follower, who listens greedily to his **_Father's_** every word. He is a loyal beast, who is ready to rip anyone's guts for daring to look at his **_Father_** in the wrong way. He is **_the Night Fury_**, named by his **_Father_**, and he exists only to **_serve_** him. He is…

He blinks, eyes wide and mouth open as he looked unseeingly ahead.

He is… a **_slave_**.

He is a slave. A slave. His Father's slave.

"Now, you see."

She murmurs, leaning back into the shadows that swallowed her as if she wasn't even there before. But he didn't see it, as he sat there near the cage of now-silent slave, under the dull shine of the moonlight that shone at his broken little figure.

* * *

"…After that… I… didn't know what to do. I was… so lost. So confused. But I didn't dare to speak with anybody about it. I kept silent and listened, looked for the proof that all what she said was a lie, in hopes to lie to myself so I could believe in Father again. But more I looked… the more I saw the truth. Until one day, four years later, I witnessed with my own eyes, how they brought little hatchlings back after the raid and carried them into the nurseries. I understood then: that's how we -**_ I_** – were brought here too. It was like she said; we were stolen from our tribes and turned into the slaves that do not know that they are slaves, because they have no memories of their other life. Because they didn't **_know_** any other life."

The feelings were hard to suppress now. His left hand was digging into his thigh, the nails piercing through the fabric of his pants and into the skin, breaking it. His other hand was still clutched into the Little One's hold and he could feel it slightly trembling, but still clinging to him. Toothless resisted the urge to look at the Little One in fears he will snap, like that time in the cage, when he nearly strangled the boy in his emotional state. But he steadily lost this little battle with himself and lifted his head up, only to find big green eyes staring into his own, and for one frightening second he thought that it was that woman, but he blinks and in focus appears freckles and brownish auburn hair of the Little One.

"I tried." His voice suddenly sounded so broken and pained in his ears, but he doesn't care. "I… t-tried to tell them. I tried to fight it. So many times. All t-these years… **_I tried_**. B-but I couldn't find the way out… I was trapped, caged like that woman. Knowing, but helpless. I couldn't do anything. I… w-was enslaved. I was forced to stay, to be a slave, because I-I couldn't find a w-way… I was lost… I nearly**_ b-broke_**…" He whispers the last words, fearful that now that he said them aloud it will be obvious that he **_did_** break and couldn't find the lost pieces of himself anymore, hiding the ugly gaps behind his warrior façade. But he knows that his bluff is obvious, but the Little One doesn't lean back or turn away.

No, instead he moved forward.

The blanket shifts and he feels the cold air brushing his skin, but then it was replaced by a heat of the twig-like arms that wind themselves around his shoulders, pressing him into the little body that he clutch desperately in answer.

"It's okay."

The murmur ghosts over his ear in a warm puff and he presses closer to the boy, trying to sink into this alien and so comforting warmth.

He knows that it's not okay.

But for a second he allows himself to believe in it.

* * *

...

**Thanks to those who reviewed the last chapter. They warmed my little heart.**

**And of course thank you all those who faved and followed, and those who even bothered to take a look of this fanfic.**

**Special thanks to Winder, Taisi and my beta I.F.T.S.**

_**Review?**_


	10. Another Broken

**.Defiant One.**

**WARNINGS:** MOARAngstMemoriesAngstMentionofBloodandLimbLossAng stTears and a little fluff (and two suprises)

**A/N : I told you the chapter will be tommorow. I liiiiieeeed. *insert troll face***

Ah, this chapter is a gem of this story (previous one too to degree). I can say that the whole fic was almost based on it. ;3 Those who reviewed have quite an insight at situation, huh. I guess one of the surprises won't be too shocking, but this chapter got another one~

**DISCLAIMER:** I do not own anything related to How To Train Your Dragon.

**BETA:**_ I.F.T.S_ (Who was shocked and pleased with this chapter, so I hope you will be too)

* * *

_Another Broken_

* * *

His body trembled so bad he was sure the root underneath him was rattling from the sheer force, but he willed his arms to be steady, as he cradled the broken man in his embrace, fearing that he may crumble at any minute from any disturbance. Hiccup stared ahead, through the mop of dark hair, his mind reeling from everything Toothless said.

That was… definitely not something he had expected. Honestly he wasn't sure what he expected, but it was the last thing that won't appear in his mind if he had something in his mind to expect. That was…

**_-frightening-horrible-outrageous-disgusting-oh-my- god-Toothless-went-through-it-!-_**

… shocking.

The Drakes… the Red Death… he… what he had done –is still doing- it was **_wrong_**. It was **_inhuman_**.

(Which actually fit his beast-like description very well.)

Hiccup rubbed his hands over the already cold skin of the man, who still hasn't moved from his position. They were tangled into a little awkward pose; with Hiccup's body twisted and his left prosthetic leg caught between Toothless long legs, while his right leg was bending uncomfortably so he could support himself on the root. But Hiccup didn't dare to move; not to get the blanket nor to sit more comfortably. He was easily fitted into Toothless' body, with his little hands hooked over the taller man shoulders and chests pressed together. It was strange, because Hiccup wasn't used to hugging, not receiving one for many years already. Gobber usually preferred to cuff him into the back of his head and Astrid punched him into a shoulder on rare occasions, and he was lucky if his father patted his shoulder from time to time. Aside from that (and shoving, tripping and other things) his contact with people was quite limited, and holding someone now, was a little weird.

It was awkward in every sense, but it was Toothless, so it was okay. Because both of them weren't really the experts in this 'hugging' thing.

Hiccup carefully slipped his left hand down to tug the blanket back over the man and himself (because his teeth were starting cluttering again and he didn't want both of them to get a hypothermia). He sighed gratefully when they were again surrounded by the thick fur that immediately cut out the access to the cold air. Toothless didn't move nor remove his hands from Hiccup as the smaller male moved around, inconspicuously trying to shift his prosthetic from the other's legs. He winced when he felt resistance, and Toothless stilled on his shoulder. The man slowly lifted his head from Hiccup's shoulder but didn't look up, instead Hiccup felt him move his hand from his torso and reach out down to tug carefully at his prosthetic to free it from the capture of his legs.

"…Sorry." Hiccup couldn't help but mutter, embarrassed because of his handicap. Toothless didn't say anything, just shifted so both of them sat comfortable again, but he didn't stop leaning to the smaller male. His right hand grasping loosely at Hiccup's shirt, as if afraid to let go, and the head hesitantly leaning to the other's, their temples pressed together.

Hiccup pursed his lips, thinking over Toothless story. Out of every horrible things the man had told him about, one thing particularly caught his attention, making his heart beat faster and push the horror and pity for the man to the side for a moment.

"Toothless…" he swallowed, not sure if it was appropriate to ask, but then sighed.

"What about… that woman? Had you seen her after that?"

His heart was beating very quickly when the man shifted so he could look at him, his green eyes half-hidden behind the eyelids as if in thoughtfulness.

"…Yes… A couple of times I… visited her." Toothless murmured tiredly and Hiccup felt bad for making him talk again after so much revelations, but he **_needed_** to know. "I tried to ask… to talk with her about… the situation… But she didn't talk about that with me." The dark-haired man frowned a little, "She kept evading these talks; instead she told me about her… pre-enslaved life."

"What did she tell you?" he asked hurriedly.

"She… told me she was a… traveler." Toothless hummed, his eyes now wide open as he stared at the boy, "She told me stories about the endless ocean where there are all types of fish man can imagine. She told me about the people who live on the big islands, almost endless and full of different cultures and ideas. She told me she was a warrior, but preferred to fight only in defense rather than for own enjoyment." His eyes twinkled a little at the memories and Hiccup thought briefly how such a child-like expression suited the man. But it wasn't the moment to think about things like that. Knot in his stomach coiling as he swallowed past the lump in his throat.

"W-what else did she tell you?"

Toothless seemed to think for a moment, before opening his mouth, "She told me she was a wife and a mother back in her home. She had a man, husband, and a beautiful child she missed and wished to see once more."

Hiccup couldn't breathe.

"What happened to her?"

"One day I couldn't find her in her cage or in the torturing chambers or slave grounds. She was… gone"

Hiccup felt his chest tightening as something blurred his vision. He heard an exclamation and felt hands cradling his.

"-ittle One! Why are you crying?"

Toothless face was right in front of his, eyes worried and confused, and a little awkward with hint of fear in them, and Hiccup couldn't help but chuckle weakly through his tears.

"I'm sorry Toothless." He whispers, feelings tears sliding down his cheeks and chin. "I just couldn't imagine that I will get to know that my mother is dead in such situation." The words drop like a dead weight, but he managed a weak smile at Toothless widened gaze.

They were quiet for a moment.

"My mother's name was Valhalarma." He started softly, wiping his tears with one hand while holding into Toothless' with his other. "She was… beautiful… and strong. She was a traveler; and she had discovered many lands during her travels. She always told me stories about her adventures whenever she returned home. When I was seven, she traveled to the East… and just disappeared. The ship she had been on was found in shreds a half a year later near one of the nearest Easter islands, without a trace of the crew or her. Father had lost faith by then already. We all just assumed she died in the storm. After all, being caught in the blizzard in the middle of the ocean…" Hiccup trailed off into the silence that engulfed them. The fire near them flickered a little and Hiccup noticed with surprise that it died down during their talking. How late it was?

"I… I'm sorry."

Hiccup blinked in surprise at the soft voice and turned to stare at Toothless who had his head low.

"What for?"

The man didn't answer and Hiccup's gaze softened.

"Toothless… She was caught by the Red Death and… **_dead_** because of him too." It was painful to speak, but he pulled on a reassuring look on his face for the man who looked up at him with sorrowful and broken eyes.

Hiccup sighed and abandoned his place for a second to stock up the fire again and returned back, sighing as the blanket slipped back on his shoulders.

"It was tough first years when she was gone." He muttered, feeling somehow that he should continue speaking, to share with Toothless like the man shared with him, "Father… was a pitiful sight to look at. A heart-broken man, who should forget about his feelings for the sake of the village, because he is the Chef and it is his duty. To everyone he didn't change much; a little less talkative and more strict, but the same Chef everyone knew him to be. Only I and Gobber knew how Mom's death affected him. Though I was young at that time… and didn't really understand." He grimaced a little at the memories; they were dulled for him from the time and he didn't really remember all the details, only feelings of sorrow and sadness. "I was confused, hurt and scared, because my Mom wasn't coming back and Father distanced himself from everyone… Somehow in my kid's logic I figured out- I was sure that I need to try and cheer my Father up. I was hurt, but I knew my Father was hurt more- He lost his love after all- so I decided to do something that could make him happy again."

The words were now a free flow, all those years of silence tumbling from him in chopped sentences and information, coupled with jumbled feelings.

"I was sure- you know that I always have been like this? Talking fishbone. Puny Hiccup. And I –kind of- knew Father was ashamed of this- well, because he is the Chef, and Chef's offspring should be big and strong- so I decided to become what my father wanted me to be. I trained. To become a real Viking. I rose with the sun and trained most of the day- and at first I thought that it worked, but… But it didn't. My body wasn't just made for training and axe-wielding and fighting. And I figured it hard way, when Snotlout knocked me out during the fight, when I thought that I could take him down. Father… was angry." Hiccup flinched at the memory, "He yelled at me that I was an idiot for even thinking that I could possibly take down someone. Anyone."

The auburn-haired boy sighed, remembering the tears and nights of questions **_–Why would he not just believe in him? -_**and smiled bitterly.

"I gave up on that. But decided to do something that I knew I could do." He smiled more honestly, "While I never had a way with axe, I always had a knack for inventing. I forged my first sword when I was nine, you know? And build a more or less successfully working mechanic when I was ten. So I decided; if I couldn't fight I will invent something that will fight for me." He chuckled, "But I guess even that didn't satisfy Father, if not only annoying him more."

"I spend days and nights inventing and trying out my inventions. Some were successful, but more were not. I got a reputation in the Village of a trouble-maker, even if I didn't try to make trouble. I… just tried to help. Once I build a special mechanism to help keep yaks in the barns, but it back-fired and we lost our stock right before winter. Another time I got an idea to make a rope-like leveler based on the cage locks, that will help people to reach higher floors in the house, but due to miscalculation it brought down the whole house and the nearest ones when I was testing it."

The village tended to avoid him and scold him when he tried to present them his new inventions. Adults will shake their head ("_What to do with this boy.", "Poor Stoick, already has his hands full without this nuisance."_) and children will call him names and threw insults coupled with an occasional rock or two (_"Go home freak!", "No one needs your stupid things, Hic-cup!", "Look fishbone is out to destroy something else!" _), while Gobber will try to stop him ( _"Oy Hiccup, just leave it, it won't do any good."_ ) and his Father…

"I made weapons too." Hiccup continued, ignoring the itching climbing up his throat, "But… but they weren't really… successful. I ignored others who tried to tell me that it was a waste of time and dangerous, and… I ignored them." He chuckled almost darkly, "But I guess I shouldn't have."

"It was almost a year ago now… During on the raids- Drake's raids- I disobeyed my Father's and Gobber's orders to stay inside the forge and rushed into the battlefield with one of my new devices. I wanted to test it in the action. Because I knew it worked. I just needed to show it to others, and what is better than help them in the fight? It was a mini-bola launcher that could take down a yak from a 100 feet length with right adjustments."

His eyes glazed over as he remembered the fire and screams of his fellow tribe mates who fought with Drakes. He had been running through the confusion and chaos, under the flying rocks and swinging weapons, towards the little clearing which was situated higher and he could have take a shot from here. He remembered the loud beating of his heart in his ears, when he almost reached it-

"I was caught by one of the Drake's. Tried to chop my head off, but I managed to duck and roll out of the way. Still surprised how the hell did I managed that- probably because of the adrenalin. Anyway, I let go of the bola-launcher when I dodged and was left defenseless, beside a short hunting knife in my belt. The guy was huge. Almost as big as my father and… I…" Hiccup swallowed thickly, "I was afraid that I will die. But… I don't know how he knew, but Father appeared, barreling into that guy and screaming at me to go, to leave. I… didn't listen."

"I lunged for the bola-launcher with intention to shoot at that guy, but when I reached it… I saw that Father had already brought that guy down, but… the Red Death himself appeared."

The image of the dark silhouette surrounded by fire, with bloodied weapons in his hands and leering down at his father sent shiver down his spine. There was so much fear in that moment when he saw that the Red Death started attacking his Da- Father, who was weakened out by previous opponent and had only chance to defend himself, but not to attack back- It was **_terrifying_**.

"They fought. I w-was… **_so_** afraid Father won't be able to fight back, because of me, because he had been defending me from that guy. I panicked. But then I noticed that bola-launcher was still there and then didn't give a second thought before taking the aim and firing at the Red Death. It didn't work. He dodged and the bola flew into the trees, and he turned to me with that-**_that_**… twisted smirk on his face."

Hiccup closed his eyes, the image of those eyes staring right through his soul as the man- no- beast tutted at him like at a disobeying child and continued to try and pierce his Father, as he watched.

"I don't know what come over me. He was trying to kill Fa- **_Dad_**. One second I was there, and then I was running at the Red Death with my knife, screaming like a madman at him, to let Dad go… And then…" Hiccup's hand unconsciously traveled down to his stump when flesh met wood and the old scars throbbed in the memory.

"And then there was nothing but **_pain_**. I fell and probably blacked out, because all I could remember clearly was pain."

The boy paused, his hand rubbing over the old injury, as he tried to decide what to tell next.

"I woke up at home with Astrid by my bedside. She was pale like a ghost and… sad. I didn't understand until I tried to sit up." Hiccup let out an inaudible sigh, "She said my leg was crushed by the bola. The same bola I lost when I fired it at the Red Death. She was nearby when that happened and was the one to stop the bleeding and get me back into the village and to the healer. I was out for two days and all that time she spent near my bed. She said something else, but by that time I passed out."

There was a silence, but not that type of silence that had been when Toothless told him his story. It was heavier, darker and Hiccup wondered how it could be, when his story was so much less… sadder then Toothless' story? Feeling that it wasn't right, Hiccup tried to say something to ease it.

"It's not that bad. I finally stopped this unnecessary inventing, beside this prosthetic. My work by the way, better than Gobber's peg leg anyway- And now the Village more or less accepted me, after I stopped destroying houses every week or so." Hiccup chuckled without humour, "I guess they are even happy that I now can't roam freely through the village with my leg- It's kind of hard to climb up with this thing, but anyway-"

He was interrupted by Toothless' shifting. The man moved, allowing the blanket to fall and pool on Hiccup's knees as the man freed himself and backed away from the boy, making the brunet's heart throb in pain at this. Was he disgusted of Hiccup? Of his stupid and selfish actions? Of his pitiful sobbing story, while the man himself experienced so much more worse? Had he offended the man somehow?

"Toothless?.." Hiccup raised confused and scared eyes at the man's face and was shocked to see tears in those stunning green eyes and heart-wrenching guilt that seemed so out of place on that pale face. And he couldn't help but wonder why the man will look like this? Did he felt somehow responsible, because it was Drake who were at fault of his lost leg? It wasn't right. He needed to explain that it wasn't the man's fault to be in the same tribe. It wasn't his fault. "Toothless? Wha-"

"It was me."

He froze at those choked out words, staring at the man whose features were full of pain, **_guilt_** and disgust mixed with fear. But not disgust and fear of Hiccup, like the boy thought, it was the fear and disgust of **_himself_**.

They stared at each other; one broken in the body, another in the mind, as the latter muttered breathlessly:

"It w-was me. It was me who threw that bola."

* * *

**DUN DUN DUUUUN**

_**(sorry couldn't help myself)**_

**_Review_? ;**D


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